


Premature Unfurling

by legendarytobes



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: 5 things fic, 5+1 Fic, 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Angst, F/M, Forced Proximity, Merry Michaelmas 2020, Michaella, Monsters, Romance, Wing Grooming, Wing Kink, five things fic, powered ella lopez, season 5, season five, wing fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:53:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 59,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26716324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legendarytobes/pseuds/legendarytobes
Summary: After Dad calls a time out on the angels' fighting in the precinct, it becomes apparent that Ella Lopez can't be frozen and is a something else. Deciding to take care of two of His problems at once, God preternaturally tethers Michael and Ella together and won't let them be freed until they figured out exactlywhatElla is.
Relationships: Ella Lopez/Michael
Comments: 239
Kudos: 235
Collections: LUCIFER_FICS_





	1. Showdown

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DeiaMatias](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeiaMatias/gifts).



> Based on a prompt from FH about angels struggling with premature unfurling/wing boners when the women in their lives are doing something they find attractive. The original prompt was open to any one of the brothers, but I focused this on Michael and Ella.
> 
> Huge thanks to **DeiaMatias** for the beta work. 
> 
> Second, as always big kudos to the WTH word sprinters for keeping me honest and going.
> 
> Finally, to all the Mi-Clowns in celebration of Michaelmas (https://www.historic-uk.com/CultureUK/Michaelmas/) and all the love of the grumpiest of angels.

**Showdown**

He shunted his wings away the second Father appeared. Michael was smart enough to know that his plot against his brothers had backfired big time if Amenadiel had stopped time flat out and done a big enough job on Dad’s favorite universe to draw Father’s attention from whichever corner of the multiverse dear old Dad had set out. He might have had a shot at taking both Amenadiel and Samael, until his asshole of a twin had knocked Maze out.

Yes, for one moment, Michael thought that something might go his way.

Well, even he knew what happened when one made assumptions…

His brothers still had their wings held high and their feathers drawn tightly into blades. They were glaring more at him than they were at Dad.

Fair enough. Samael was probably worried about his pets in general and the miracle in particular. While she was immune to the Devil’s powers, she was susceptible to most angelic gifts, including his own. She would remain as frozen as the rest of the humans around them until Father fixed it or Amenadiel snapped out of his spiral. Considering how idiotic his older brother could be, Michael bet that Father would snap his fingers and set it right first. And, for the record, he didn’t hurt infants. Human spawn were beneath his consideration. He’d simply seized on Amenadiel’s rampant fears about Chucky’s opportunely-timed fever.

That was all.

Sucked that the only Nephilim any of them had heard of was as fragile as any other human infant, but that wasn’t his fault. Menny should take that up with Father if he was so upset.

Michael swallowed hard and, out of the corner of his eye, kept track of both brothers’ sharpened feathers. However, when the Almighty Presence was in the room, one had to give Him the most deference.

Father eyed all of them and shook his head. “I do hate it when you fight.”

Samael opened his mouth to bitch when Father waved his hand, and Sam went blessedly silent.

“No, Samael, I don’t want to hear arguments, and I already know about Uriel. How could I not? If you’d delivered your mother to Hell as asked, then your brother would be alive.”  
  


Michael didn’t say a word and neither did Amenadiel even as Samael fumed. His twin tried to speak again, but he brought his hands to his throat and coughed as he tried to say a word. Even though he loathed Sam, Michael hoped his brother had enough sense to avoid reverting to rude hand gestures to convey his point to Father. It wouldn’t net his twin anything in the end.

Defying Father never did.

“And you, Amenadiel, I can understand fatherly worries, but you have to take control of your phobias. My grandson won’t grow up at all if you freeze time forever.”

“I apologize, Dad. I don’t know how to stop it.”

Their father smiled, giving a beatific look to all of them, one that Amenadiel eased under and that literally ruffled Samael’s feathers. Michael kept still. He was neither furious with Dad nor desperate for His attention. Granted, he’d embellished the truth when he’d told his idiot siblings that he had Father’s ear. He hadn’t communicated with Dad since at least the 1960s by human standards, but the Host always bought what he spun.

However, he was neither sibling, and he wanted to see how this would all play out and to see what his tantrum was about to cost him. Just, damn it, someone had to see for once that Samael was as he’d always been, that he was _still_ the entitled brat who had torn their family apart, led Mother to her own damnation eventually, and ruined him.

Yet now most of the Host---even Remiel---were singing Sam’s praises?

Unforgiveable.

So, he’d tried to break Sam’s life. A lot. So what? Samael should be in _Hell_. It was his twin’s damn (quite literally) job.

“Yes, well, if you give me a moment, Son, I’ll be able to fix the universe you’ve frozen.”

“You mean I didn’t only freeze all of Los Angeles?” Amenadiel yelped.

Father laughed, and Michael wasn’t sure what Yahweh gained by projecting a sitcom dad image, but He was married to that aesthetic for now between the fuzzy sweater, graying beard, and deep belly laugh. Michael would have asked who Dad was fooling, but Amenadiel was regarding him with such large, hopeful puppy eyes that Michael already had his answer. Then again, he wasn’t surprised. His brother was the First Born and the current favorite if the rumors were true. Menny was the one so keenly aware now of fatherly duty and that he was made first in father’s image.

Amenadiel was as easily manipulated to love Dad as Samael was to curse Him out.

Predictable, both his brothers, and Uriel would have hated that.

Not that Michael had ever cared much about Uriel, but his brother hadn’t deserved what he’d gotten, not exactly. Idiot had gone too far and tried indirectly to kill a human---Sam’s _miracle_ no less---and that was an affront to all the Host stood for. However, sometimes Michael missed Uriel’s company. Both of their gifts set off the bulk of the Host. Fear more so than patterns of course, but it was…if not friendship, then misery loving company in their semi-exile in the Silver City.

Blame that on Samael too.

“Yes, Son,” Father continued, focusing on Amenadiel. “You were so worked up that all time has stopped in this realm. I couldn’t have that, so I’ll be happy to get it restarted. Perhaps stay around a bit if you need help you adjusting to fatherhood. I might know a few things about that.”

And like clockwork, his moron of a twin brother _did_ flip their father off or, at least, gave him the British equivalent (as if that weren't the most insane affectation) of his forefinger and middle finger making a reverse V.

Father narrowed his eyes at Sam. “Oh, Samael, you don’t want to start off this way.”

His brother’s eyes flared red, but at least the Devil opted away from any rude hand gestures this time. Well, _more_ of them.

“How aren’t you happy? I’ve been rooting quite hard for you and my gift. Do you not like Chloe? Is there something I can change there?”

Samael shook his head vehemently and tried to speak again, although all his brother managed to do was gasp.

Michael admitted that Father’s question turned something even in his stomach. He and Chloe Decker did not get along. He’d tried to fool her, she’d shot him four times (waste of bullets honestly), and then she’d hated the zoo accommodations for the day, but there was a spirit in her---a bravery---that even Michael admired. The thought of Dad just snapping his fingers and _changing_ all that Chloe was on a whim was disturbing. It reinforced how, at the end of the day, all of them---Celestial and human alike---were either tools or playthings at Father’s discretion.

Father eyed Amenadiel again. “And you? Is there something about Charlie’s mother you’d like tweaked? She’s awfully short, isn’t she? Maybe make her a little younger? You have such a short amount of time with mortal life spans involved. I can fix that.”

Amenadiel showed the first sign of a backbone when he shook his head. Keeping his eyes low and making his supplication obvious, the First Born spoke. “Father, some would say that’s a generous offer, but I like Linda exactly as she is.”

Father shrugged. “I was merely offering. You two have been blessed with such charming companions. Don’t forget who allows that.” Finally, he turned his attention to Michael, and he felt his throat go dry. “And you, my former Sword…” Father chuckled to himself. “Although, I suppose that was eons ago, wasn’t it?”

Michael did not miss how Dad’s eyes both raked over his slouched posture and then focused in on Samael before turning back to him. “Michael, you’ve made so much trouble here for your brothers, and I do not appreciate you pushing Amenadiel until he froze the universe.”

Honestly, Michael had just been going for Los Angeles at most. He had no idea that Amenadiel was capable of such a feat, and he suspected that their father hadn’t realized the extent of the First Born’s power either. _Interesting_. Michael wondered if Dad knew how much self-actualization could do to His children. If what he’d read of his twin was true---if how Samael could make himself look and _be_ to survive millennia in Hell had actually happened---then Michael wagered Father had no idea how much their odd peculiarity could warp them.

He filed that away for later. It might be useful someday.

Michael then answered, “Father, I understand, and I just needed the Silver City to realize that Samael has not reformed, that because he did one thing to protect his pet Chloe, he’s still everything he ever was. Just as selfish and broken.”

Samael still could not speak, but he did point at Michael and roll his eyes.

Michael interpreted that as _You’re one to talk_.

  
True enough, but Michael had never hidden his brokenness. Since the Fall and Rebellion, it had been on full display for all to see.

“Yes, well, this has been less than ideal for me. I had no intention of having to interfere, but your manipulation of Amenadiel has forced my hand. Besides, Samael’s sentence is still between him and me.” Father concentrated harder on him, and Michael felt as if they were the only two beings in creation at that moment. “Unless you’d rather discuss your own sentence, which I think we need to do.”

“Father, really---”

Michael wasn’t even sure what tactic he was going to try or which words would keep his father from smiting him where he stood. However, he didn’t get to finish his sentence when an oddly familiar voice rang out in the precinct:

“Holy cow! What the heck is going on?”

All four of them turned to see Ella Lopez, decked out in _Peanuts_ pajama pants and a long yellow t-shirt, staring at them. Her attention was focused most prominently on Samael’s wings, and Michael frowned at her. Something was _wrong_ with her, something very different than any human he’d met, and how had he not noticed it when he’d been around her before? She’d seemed too naïve and child-like to be of use in his plans. Like Chucky and Trixie, she was someone a bit too innocent to sully. However, if she were able to move around freely despite his brother’s power _and_ wasn’t a babbling, incoherent mess at the sight of the First Born and the Lightbringer’s wings, then something was very different about Ella Lopez.

Something utterly _inhuman_.

Father waved a hand, and Sam coughed, now able to speak again. Samael took a step forward, but he did not retract his wings in their Father’s presence. Then, his twin held up his hands toward Ella.

“Miss Lopez, I suppose I should explain what’s going on here, though to be rather fair, I think you owe one as well.”

Ella blinked between all of them from the wings to Father and, mostly, as she did a ping pong routine with her neck between Sam’s face and his own. “You’re not a method actor?”

Sam offered her a small smile. “No, I’m afraid not.”

Michael shrugged. “On the bright side, at least Sam’s not delusional or a terrible actor. I mean, what? You’ve been watching him for three or so years, trying and get that Devil part, and that show _Diablo_ had a way crappier devil for a while.”

Ella blinked between all of them. “So Amenadiel---”

His eldest brother nodded. “Yes, Ella. I…can you explain how you got here?”

She nodded so hard that Michael legitimately feared she might sprain her neck with her enthusiasm. “Totally! I forgot my best pair of headphones here. I wanted to rest at home with my favorite books on audio and some podcasts… you know, heal up?”

Michael frowned at that. He’d been busy staging his plans and stealing the miracle. If something had happened to Ella Lopez---not that it concerned him---but anything like that had escaped his notice. Of course, now that she mentioned “healing,” Michael took note of the ring of purple discoloration around her throat, but those had to be a week or more old, didn’t they?

Sam glared at Father as if daring Him to stop him, and then he stepped lithely across the floor to sweep Ella up in a hug. “I…of course, that makes more than enough sense. I should have…if all Hell hadn’t broken loose, I’d have called you and asked if you had need of anything.”

Ella nodded against his chest and, despite everything, she reached out and stroked the nearest primary she could reach. It twitched a little and she gasped. “Holy crap. It’s _warm_.”

Samael sighed and stepped back. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

“Is it glowing?”

“A bit.”

Michael rolled his eyes. Oh yes, the Lightbringer and his perfect, still blessed wings. What a tool his brother was. Seriously.

Ella sniffled a little and gave Amenadiel a quick hug as well but didn’t touch his wing. “I got on the elevator and everything was normal. I try and get off and the door is like stuck half way open. I was able to shimmy through, and when I do? Poof! It’s all frozen…I mean even the _clocks_ aren’t working!”

Father stared intently at her but hadn’t yet addressed Ella. “Yes, well, that would be my son’s fault.”

Ella blinked and looked directly at Father. “What?”

Dad didn’t move closer to her but studied her with a furrowed brow. “How interesting. What are you, Miss Lopez? You’re not one of mine.”

She stumbled a little then, and Michael couldn’t explain why as he was hardly one for chivalry, but he was the one who lurched forward to keep the (well not exactly) human from stumbling. Ella ended up in his arms but stilled as she regarded him, her body stiffening at the sight of his scarred face.

_Oh thank you so much, Samael_.

“I…if you’re Lucifer and Amenadiel’s dad then…”

“Yes, I am the Alpha and Omega, Miss Lopez, but what I can’t quite discern is who you are. I can’t say I am pleased by it.”

She blinked, and Michael steadied her. It cut oddly to see her tear up. If he were completely honest with himself---and he would _never_ be with his brothers---it hit him a bit like Chucky’s wailing in the pediatric ward. He didn’t necessarily want small, fragile creatures to suffer. He would take advantage of it, if needed, but he wasn’t a fan of it. It wasn’t the way he got his kicks. While he’d only worked with Ella for a week or so, he knew enough about Sam’s Miss Lopez to know that she was a devout Catholic, and that she’d devoted most of her adult life to his father.

Ouch.

Such a load of devotion to be misplaced; Michael would know.

However, Father’s rejection and downright suspicion of whatever Ella was clearly had gutted her. Michael didn’t even need his gifts to understand that.

“I don’t understand,” Ella croaked.

Michael helped her stand straight and backed away slowly with his hands held up. His twin took his place at Ella’s side and wrapped an arm around her shoulders as well as his right wing. And didn’t that just burn? How utterly perfect that one was.

“Miss Lopez, I suppose you’ve noticed but maybe not understood. My brother’s ability to freeze time only affects humans. Demons and Celestials are immune. If Mazikeen were conscious, she’d be up and moving too. Most angelic gifts only work to a certain degree, and often not at all on beings that are more than human---angels, demons, the Endless, gods of other pantheons…all of those come to mind.”

She blinked between all of them. “I’m really confused. Let me try this again. I was almost murdered by a serial killer yesterday, I was super tired so I must have dozed off, and now I’m having a weird and kind of very _Wizard of Oz_ nightmare with ‘and you were there and you were there’ right now. I mean, you’re not really the Devil and Amenadiel isn’t an angel and I’m not apparently being rejected by the Big Guy.”

Her voice wavered on that last part, and Samael gripped her closer.

Michael frowned. “Okay, so do humans get brownie points or something for how well they deny reality because, _chica_ , I hate to tell you, this is all real. Oh, and sorry about that serial killer thing. That sounds like a bitch.”

And it explained the neck bruises a fuck ton more.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Who even are you?”

He rolled his eyes and gave her a stiff, shallow bow. “The archangel Michael, not exactly at your service, but nice to re-meet you.”

She blinked. “Huh? I think I’d have remembered dealing with you before.”

  
Sam shook his head. “He has a bit of a _Parent Trap_ approach to my life. Michael took my place whilst I was in Hell recently. You must have worked a case or two together under his false pretenses.”

Michael nodded. “You hit me with your shoe and, well, there was that whole space station case. That was me. It was a ‘ships passing in the night’ kind of thing.”

“Now that’s a thought,” Father said, looking between her and him. “Actually, that solves two of my problems at once.”

Michael frowned. “I don’t think I follow.” And, honestly, considering the whole vibe his father was giving off and the general _wrath_ of it all, he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

Samael flared his wings wide, as if those could affect the Almighty Presence worth a damn. “Father, I don’t want you messing with any of my friends. In fact, if you could just restart time and go back to whichever part of the multiverse you’ve fucked off to, that would be preferable.”

Ella’s eyes widened comically and she slapped---actually _slapped_ \---the Devil’s arm, even though she knew full well what he was now. “Dude, you can’t just curse at the Big Guy!”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Amenadiel lamented.

“No, my prodigal son has never learned to cut his losses,” Dad replied. “However, I would like to start time again and get on with my work.”

“Away from us,” Amenadiel said, and it was somewhat pathetic and perhaps maybe a bit sad to hear the First Born so wounded. Like most of the Host, his brother still wanted Father’s affection. Perhaps it was something he had in common with his twin, besides mostly their looks and the Demiurgic power they shared between them. Michael was pretty sure that, after the Fall, his twin, had stopped hoping for Father’s affection as well. “You can stay if you want to see Charlie. I…I’m sure Linda would love to meet you.”

Michael wanted to snort at that. He figured Dad had little time for mortals and Amenadiel’s very human, very _banal_ family wouldn’t interest Father in the least. But, again, the eldest had always been such a Daddy’s boy. More’s the pity that hadn’t changed.

“No, Son, I don’t have the time.”

“And a shocker,” Samael said.

Michael said nothing. It was naïve, but he was hopeful that if he just said nothing his father would forget to punish him, not that Dad had ever forgotten to do that before.

The Almighty Presence pointed at Ella and gestured for her to step forward. Sam gripped her tighter and re-wrapped his wing around her. “Ella Lopez, I want to see you more closely.”

“Really, Dad, you’ve come all this way from wherever to harass mortals? How tiresome. At least Mum had a bit more machinations in her games,” Samael huffed.

“I won’t ask again,” Father said, the faux cheeriness of His tone beginning to slip. That wasn’t surprising. Father’s will be done and all that. “Now, Ella, please do as I ask.”

Samael finally relinquished his grip but only after Amenadiel touched his shoulder and nodded for him to comply. For the best. Knowing Father’s lack of patience, Sam was already skating on thin ice for _leaving Hell again._ Michael figured that He could do far worse to the Devil than He already had. Sure, Sam’s face was parboiled, but there were worse things than just being extra crispy.

Ella stepped forward, and she really was so tiny. Her massive, sunny yellow t-shirt swam on her, and Michael studied her with intense curiosity. After all, she was _something_ , and none of them---even Father---quite had an idea what yet. Sighing, Michael let his walls down a bit to allow the fears in the room to hit him. At least with the mortals frozen, he only received so much.

From Samael, the fear was predictable: a mix of fear for his pets, especially his miracle, and fear for himself and Father’s verdicts. From Amenadiel, both phobias about watching his son grow old and die as mortals did, but also anxiety that he’d been flawed somehow, that he’d ruined Chucky and denied him his Celestial birth rights. From Father…and how odd. Father was usually unreadable, but perhaps in his walkabout the Presence had grown sloppy, or perhaps He was so preoccupied with time stopped _and_ Ella’s unnerving condition that the Almighty for once was readable. Or that Dad wanted Michael to read Him. There was always the outside chance that Dad was playing games.

Always that.

But Father was concerned, though not truly scared as He was basically untouchable, but still dismayed by the scientist’s presence and her abnormal resilience to Amenadiel’s gift.

From Ella, Michael read the intense fear of her attack, the powerlessness she’d felt with some twerp’s hands around her throat. And that incensed Michael in the same way that kicking a puppy or someone like him---with all his abilities intact---going after Trixie or Chucky would have. It just wasn’t fair. The mismatch was beyond not sporting; it was downright cowardly and an affront to any sense of honor at all. The part of him that had once been the Sword of God so very long ago couldn’t stand it. But there was so much more there, a fear tinged with overwhelming grief, the pain lancing through Ella that she was so very broken and _wrong_ that even The Big Guy (as she called Father) couldn’t stand her either.

He frowned at her and wanted to say that Dad didn’t really care for anyone, but that would get him smited and wouldn’t ease her woes anyway.

Dad reached out, stroked Ella’s cheek, and offered her a calm yet distant smile. “Well, well, Miss Lopez, is it?”

“Um, Ella’s fine.”

“Yes, well, _Ella_ , do tell me. Do you have any powers?”

She chewed the inside of her cheek, and Michael felt it, that sharp spike of fear inside of her but not of him and his siblings and not even of Father. It was of _herself_. “I---”

“Dad, really, this is absurd,” Samael said.

Michael held his hand up. “Wait for once, Sam. Just be quiet.”

“I don’t appreciate you or Dad coming here to ruin my life and threaten my friends. Not one bit!” Samael said, his eyes flashing red behind his forensic scientist pet, as if that would scare either him or Dad.

Nice try, but no dice.

Father sighed and shook His head. “Twins, silence.”

Michael felt it then, the soreness in his throat, and he knew damn well if he tried to speak, he’d be unable to. Behind Ella, his twin was gaping like a fish on land, and wasn’t making any sounds. Ugh, well, hopefully Father would find enough good humor to return their ability to speak before He fucked off for decades. Then again, if this was a way to finally shut Sam up, maybe Michael didn’t mind that either.

“Now,” Dad said, his attention focused solely on Ella. “Do you have powers, child?”

Michael noted the lack of “my” before Dad spoke about “child.” Nope, whatever Ella was, Dad hadn’t made her. Again, interesting, but it opened up a fuck ton of other things she could be. Although, probably not any Endless. That group was pretty insane and unstable, and Ella seemed more glued together than someone like Delirium or Death.

Ella frowned back at Sam, and Michael felt shame flare in her since it was so closely linked to her fears, so acrid and bitter on his own tongue. “I speak to ghosts? I mean, the one ghost? I haven’t seen her in a year or more, but I used to see her all the time as a kid and in high school and even in Detroit. I just…I’m a not very interesting medium. I mean, like the _Long Island Medium_ on TV speaks to tons of dead people. Sometimes celebrities. I just talk to the one.”

Dad considered her. “That’s not all I’m gathering from you, but I can’t quite…what an unusual lineage you have.”

Ella shook her head. “I really don’t.”

“Michael, come forward.” Dad said, turning his sharp, probing focus to him. _Joy_. “Don’t make me ask twice.”

He didn’t need to hear any clarification on that threat. Pissing Dad off got you banished. Technically, Michael couldn’t rule Hell so his chance of banishment there in Sam’s place was less likely. His wings didn’t work reliably enough to either aid him well in crossing between planes or getting to the Celestial throne at Hell’s heart. However, there were so many other things Dad could decree, and the last thing Michael wanted was to take Mother’s place as Hell’s top prisoner and be tortured daily by Sam or some lowly Lilim for eternity.

So, even as tired as he was, Michael slumped forward and edged up near Ella. She shuddered instinctively and stepped to her right. He tried not to take offense. Michael hadn’t put his walls back up, and she was feeling the intrinsic wrongness of him for the first time. Taking a deep breath, Michael forced his mental barriers in place and tamped down his power. It was always with him, a low thrum through his body that made humans and Celestials alike avoid him on sight. It was the opposite of Sam’s gift, and oh to be living desire incarnate.

How fun that must have been, but it was far from his lot in life.

  
And trying to pretend to be Samael had been quite the mistake.

Apparently, even now, Father had a favorite twin and it was _not_ Michael. Well, that wasn’t surprising? Not.

“You had no right to come here and mess with the miracle that I made, Michael,” Dad started.

Michael nodded and looked at the floor, trying to show the contrition he only felt because he was terrified of God’s wrath.

“And you used your power against both of your brothers, and now _I_ have to clean up the mess you’ve made. After I restart time, I will have to ensure this universe will run properly after Amenadiel lost hold on his power. Do you think I want to be worried like that, Son?”

Michael bristled at his Father’s condescension but struggling desperately to hide it.

“I cannot trust either of you. You, Ella Lopez, who feels like a Trojan Horse to me, since even I have no idea what you are.”

“I’m really not that weird,” she defended. “Sir…Big Guy…I swear I’m just a scientist who, you know, happens to speak to one ghost. It’s not a huge deal.”

Sam frowned at Amenadiel, who shrugged at him. Oh, so neither brother had known until now.

How interesting.

Maybe Samael didn’t understand his pets as well as he thought. It had been very easy to manipulate Linda, Chloe, and Daniel after all. Well, maybe not Chloe, but the other two were very fearful, and there was power to be gained in poking at them both.

“But I can’t trust either of you. You, Ella, because I don’t yet know who made you.”

“Um, pretty sure at Catechism I learned that was You,” and her tone was flippant, but her words barely came out as a squeak.

His father offered a smile that didn’t reach his eyes and shook his head. “No, I assuredly did not.” He turned his focus to Michael. “And you will attack your brothers if I leave you to your own devices. You, Michael, will continue to exact plots as part of your ancient feud with Samael.”

Michael tried to talk about his ruined wing but grimaced when he couldn’t make a sound. _You know why, Father. You know he ruined my wing and my side. That will **never heal.**_

His father shrugged. “Be that as it may, Son. You cannot remain as you are. I need to have you both monitored while I attend to an issue in another part of the multiverse.” Dad smiled, and it was supposed to come across as the amused expression of some insipid sitcom father.

Michael wasn’t fooled.

It chilled him.

“I…what are you going to do?” Ella asked.

Father chuckled and stroked his beard, and Michael darted his gaze enough to catch his twin’s gaze. Sam’s eyes were glowing red, and Michael could feel the barely contained rage from here. No, Samael wasn’t buying the _Father Knows Best_ act either.

“First,” he said, snapping his fingers. “If the twins will cooperate, I’ve given them back their voices.”

Michael felt the lack of pain in his throat after Dad did that. He breathed a bit easier, but only so much. After all, his Father always had other plans.

“Now are you bloody well going to leave?” Sam demanded.

“After I set a few things right. You should be glad, Son. I’m the one making sure that your brother won’t be a bother for you.” Father turned to Michael and shook his head. “My Sword, I’m so very disappointed in you.”  
  
Michael nodded and stared down at the floor again. “I know.”

Father snapped his fingers again, and Michael frowned. He _knew_ something was different, but he couldn’t quite ascertain what had changed about him. “Yes, that will do nicely. You can keep your wings, such as they are.”

Oh, how generous. Busted wings were barely better than none at all.

“And, of course, your own gift.”

Michael would have loved to be rid of his fear mojo. It did nothing but isolate him from the Host and from humans even here on earth. Not that he cared much for humans, but who wanted to be feared all the time? Who wanted everyone that came near to scurry to the other side of the street or clutch their children’s hands tighter?

It was _insulting_.

But Father, at least by His own estimation, was showing mercy. Michael needed to be grateful for that.

“Thank you, Dad.”

“But your strength and invulnerability---not your immortality---but your _impervious nature_ assuredly is now forfeit until I say otherwise. That will make you hardly any match at all for your brothers, make it easy for them to keep an eye on you.”

“Father,” Amenadiel started. “Perhaps it would be best to take Michael back to the Silver City.”

“There are many fine rooms in Hell. If he hurries, he’ll make it down in time for testicle stomping Thursdays. That was always Mazikeen’s favorite,” Sam chimed in.

Ella looked ghostly pale and gulped at all of this, but she didn’t dare speak. Tears were falling slowly down her cheeks, and from what little Michael knew of her, she’d always been such a dedicated believer. Had so very much _faith_. Even without reading her currently, Michael was sure that Father’s suspicion and rejection had gutted her.

Oh yes, he could relate to that.

“Boys, stop. Michael will stay on earth as I see fit. It did such wonders for both of you, and so he too shall remain here. However, I do agree that he needs not to be a burden for you both to sit constantly.” Father eyed Ella and tsked to himself. “I have a being I don’t understand and a son that I cannot currently trust---one half of the Demiurge, at that. I’ve been here before at different times. I have learned from Samael acting out---”

“Oh, _that’s_ what we’re calling it now?” Michael bit back. A Rebellion in which agitators like Sandaphalon murdered fellow siblings, and he lost so very much of his own body and power was hardly just “acting out,” but Sam was the favorite so…

“Yes, well,” Father said, straightening his sweater. “You will watch each other.” Dad clapped his hands together and Michael felt a jolt of electricity run through his body and nothing more after that. “Until I figure out what to do with Ella Lopez…what kind of threat she may be---”

“Father, please. Miss Lopez is the most harmless being I know,” Samael said.

Father narrowed his eyes and replied with a booming bass, the kind of voice that had driven mortals mad eons ago and only been allowed to be funneled through a burning bush. “Do _not_ test me, Samael. I will rescind my decree that Hell no longer needs a guard, at least not for the next fifty years or so, and you will spend the rest of your miracle’s life below. Is that understood?”  
  


“But Miss Lopez hasn’t done anything!”

Ella seemed to gather her wits a little and looked back at Sam, whose eyes were normal again. Probably for the best. Even if she wasn’t quite human or _whatever she was_ , Ella had had more than enough shocks to the system today. Better not to deal with Sam’s Devilishness too.

“Lucifer, it’s okay. I don’t want…whatever the Big Guy says is fine. I’m not here to hurt anyone and, okay, world’s lamest medium here, but I’m not a threat, and I’m sure your dad will figure that out.”

“But Miss Lopez, you’re innocent.”

  
She nodded and, reaching behind her, touched his twin’s forearm. “I know, so whatever your dad wants, well, I always tried to listen to the Big Guy before.” She blanched at that. “Maybe didn’t do a great job when it came to relationship rules, but you know what I mean.” Ella turned back to their father and held her chin up high. “I’m not going to hurt anyone. I have no idea why I’m not stopped or frozen or whatever too, but do what you need, God, um, Sir. I’m going to prove I’m no threat.”

Father paused then and quirked His head at her, as if He’d never met anyone like Ella Lopez before. Michael was pretty sure that, personally, he hadn’t either. “How brave of you and sincere, I hope, Ella. Well, so let it be written and so let it be done. Until I deem otherwise---until I am sure you are no threat at all---you and Michael will be bound together. Wherever you go, he will go, and vice versa. You have 200 cubits of separation between you, and that is all. Let whatever you are and my wayward angel be your own jailors. That should suffice for now.”

“Wait, about that---” Ella stammered. “Not to upset you, Sir, but I have a tiny apartment and…also what’s a cubit?”

Amenadiel took a modicum of pity on Ella and answered, “He means about 100 yards. That’s a football field, Ella.”

“Oh.”

Michael wanted to object to this idiot punishment. He barely knew the woman, and he certainly wasn’t quite sure he could trust whatever she was. Also, he did _not_ need a sitter. Wasn’t being as weak and vulnerable as any mortal debasement enough? “Father, really, I don’t need---”

“Silence, Michael Demiurgos! Do not test me, my Sword.”

Father spoke again with that voice that could shatter the world apart if He so chose. Ella shuddered but didn’t curl up into a gibbering ball of madness any more than she had spying his brothers’ wings. Another big tick mark in the “not human” column. If she were even as mortal as Sam’s miracle, she’d be insane by now.

_What the Hell is she?_

His father continued and focused all his attention on him. “You’ve made a mess of everything, and if I weren’t here, this universe might remain frozen for decades or longer. You’ve set off the balance of the multiverse with your stunt. You should be glad this is _all_ that I do. Now, you’ve had the verdict rendered.” Father looked between him and Ella. “You both figure it out.”  
  


With a final snap of his fingers, Father disappeared in a blinding ball of light, as he was wont to do.

Michael barely had time to process it all and his brothers a moment to shunt their wings away before time started up again. Obviously, Father’s doing as Amenadiel clearly had fuck all idea how he’d managed to stop all time in the universe. As the bull pen adjusted to the utter destruction around them, Michael shook his head and limped to the stairs. He had no place better than his empty zoo to go to, but he didn’t give a Dad damn about the 100 yards limit. He’d test it out himself.

There was no way he was being bound cheek-by-jowl to a mortal or, well, whatever Ella was.

Grumbling, he slid into the elevator, rode it up, and eased out to the street. Michael made it about halfway down the city block before everything around him flickered, and he found himself popped back into reality in the center of Ella’s lab. She was there talking quietly with Amenadiel and Linda. Michael assumed Sam was off checking on Chloe Decker.

He sighed and swallowed at the utter disdain Linda Martin was sending his way. Now that he wasn’t invulnerable, Michael wasn’t sure that he wanted to tempt her Momma Grizzly rage. Holding up his hands, he sighed again. “If I had a white flag or handkerchief, I’d wave it. I didn’t give Chucky the measles or whatever, and I am not going to hurt an infant. What kind of asshole do you take me for?”

Linda glared at him with fury. “You do not want me to answer that.”

Amenadiel sighed down at Ella. “I…honestly, I needed to check on Charlie anyway.” He turned to Linda. “Let’s give both of them a minute. Obviously, Father was serious about the yards limit.”

Ella nodded. “I need a minute too.” She frowned at that and shook her head at him. “I’ll just pretend Michael’s not here.”

“But I am,” he groused, pulled up a stool, and sat on it. At this point his side was too sore for him to argue much, and he had no interest in trying to escape again, only to pop into her lab once more. The teleportation didn’t hurt, but it was disorienting and not something he wanted to repeat.

Amenadiel and Linda apologized to Ella and slipped out, promising they’d be back with the stroller after they made sure Dan was taking okay care of Charlie.

“So,” Ella said, setting her hands on her hips. It would have been more intimidating if she weren’t in Snoopy pajamas. “You’re the Defender of the Faith and the Sword of God.” She snorted. “You’re a _saint_?”

Michael arched an eyebrow back at her. “I didn’t get a say in the canonization.”

“I bet.”

  
He drummed the fingers of his left hand against the metal of her table. “Look, just so you know since, apparently, we’re going to be best friends for the foreseeable future, my power is over fear. I don’t mean to use it sometimes, but that’s why you felt uncomfortable around me earlier…my walls weren’t up. I’ll try not to read you, but sometimes I can’t help even that. I really am sorry about that serial killer crap. You’re too nice for it. I think.”  
  


Ella frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean, the ‘you think?’”

“Well, I assumed till today you were human. I’m a bit embarrassed I didn’t read anything else off you, although you have even Dad stumped so good on you. But yeah, for now I have my wings at least and I can control fear…not a great party trick, I know. What do you do?”

“I told you. I just talk to Rae Rae and---”

Michael blinked. There was no way. No fucking way. “Hey, about Rae Rae? She’s not about five feet tall with a bowl cut, glasses, and loves to say ‘smell you later,’ does she?”

“How’d you know? I’m not even scared of her!”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Oh well, Father’s mystery just got deeper because whatever you are, you were never a medium. Rae Rae is also Azrael, my sister, and the Angel of Death. So, I guess I have to repeat: what are you really, Ella?”

“I don’t know! I just see a ghost, who is apparently an angel somehow and my life is getting weirder, and I didn’t even think that was possible.”

“Well, my life has always been odd, such is the so-called joy of being part of literally the first family. However, we better figure out what you are and the sooner the better. We won’t stop being each other’s shadow until we do. And, you know, I have all of eternity, but I’m pretty sure you don’t want to be basically my conjoined twin here.”

“Longer tether, and that’s a shitty analogy.”

“Whatever, chica. So, I want out of this arrangement and fast. Let’s figure out what you _actually_ do besides being immune to some angel abilities and Dad’s Presence. Lopez, we’re going to figure out everything about you, and I promise, we’ll start with any powers you’re holding out on me.”

“I don’t have any.”  
  
Michael shrugged, and the effect was ruined by his right shoulder barely responding at all. “I don’t believe you. Now, let’s get to work.”


	2. Moving In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Michael and Ella get used to their new accommodations and Lux (oh and Margaret the chicken too)...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies, I developed some stomach issues and had an ER visit etc lately. I'll be going Tues/Fri with this from now on that I'm better (so part 3 Friday).

**I. Moving In**

Michael spent the afternoon in the lab trying to figure out what the Hell Ella Lopez was. She didn’t _feel_ off. If anything, she just seemed to be scared and traumatized from that weasel who’d tried to strangle her. And, seriously, good on Lopez for stabbing him with a paralytic and getting his ass arrested. That was more than deserved for the little puke. However, the only thing he noticed about her now was that uptick in her anxiety and levels of fear. They sat for a long time and tried some of the basics---pyrokinesis, telekinesis, and telepathy. Although, to be fair, he was able to read her if she directed thoughts at him (the loosest of prayer in a sense). Ella just couldn’t pick up crap from him.

Since she wasn’t even a psychic, just someone apparently Azrael had felt bold enough to reveal herself to and then _lie_ about (and people got on him for being oily with the truth), Michael was starting to worry that Ella was just human. Granted, somehow a human Amenadiel couldn’t freeze and who wasn’t affected by the Divine, let alone driven mad by it. But as far as something godly about her or Endless or anything else?

Not so much.

It was possible Father had made a mistake but try telling Him that. Unfortunately, until Michael pinpointed what the fuck Ella was and reported that back to Dad, well, he was stuck with the world’s sunniest shadow.

It was not ideal. At all.

It was deemed that they couldn’t move into her place. It was a small rat trap of an apartment, apparently, with a love seat in her tiny front room and a twin bed in her bedroom and a chicken living in her tub which what even? He understood humans had to eat and, eventually, even he did on this plane but not that often. However, why would she live with her food? Whatever could she gain from keeping Margaret the Chicken in her tub?

Anyway, her place was out.

He offered the zoo. It was functional and free, but Ella had laughed in his face thinking it was a joke. Samael had been utterly mortified on his behalf. Oh, like he had a place to go with no job, no paper trail to get a job, and a face that screamed “I work for organized crime,” even though Michael didn’t.

So, sure, now Sam was embarrassed about Michael’s appearance _now_ that Michael was wandering around the precinct and before Sam’s colleagues, as if his ugliness somehow reflected on his twin too.

Whatever the reasoning, his brother deemed the zoo---which really did have _plenty_ of space---far from ideal for Ella either. It left the least favorite of Michael’s options, but the one that was settled on and arranged while he and Ella established that she also was not any type of siren or overall mesmerist. Yes, while they killed time in her lab, Samael set up an apartment about six floors down from his penthouse.

Michael could hardly wait.

Once Ella got the text from his twin (and she’d been communicating with him all day so he could get her stuff from her place or, more accurately, have people do it for him), she let Michael know everything was prepared. He followed her out of the lab, making a point to shorten his strides because even if he shuffled along, he still had far longer legs than she did. There was no point in getting but so far from her. Again, the metaphysical leash Father had set up wasn’t unpleasant, but it wasn’t an experience that Michael wanted to test again. Being yanked across space and time before he could blink sucked.

Even he could learn his lesson once in a while.

As her followed her, Michael ignored the gaping stares of the police detectives and uniformed officers that were focused on him. Mostly, he assumed, it was because none of them realized their Lucifer had a twin at all. Not that Sam was going to mention him. _Ever_. Which, okay, fair since they didn’t exactly get along. Michael could admit that. Although another, deeper part of him rankled at the fact that some of the humans were gawking at him because of his lame stature and the still angry and healing scar across his face.

As if it hadn’t been hard enough to try and hide his posture, which always faltered as the day grew into night and his side throbbed harder. But now, well, all of his differences and defects could of course be traced back to Sam, couldn’t they?

Ella offered him a nervous smile as the elevator doors opened out to the parking garage. “I’m assuming you don’t have a car?”

“That’s a nice way of saying that since I’m squatting in a zoo rent free, that you figure I don’t have a car.”

  
“Do you?”

“I don’t,” he admitted.

Ella nodded and took the lead. It was bizarre and a demotion having to follow around a human in cartoon pajamas as his Father commanded. But here he was, and he was bone tired. So, Michael said little as he followed Ella through the maze of cars and finally stopped at a restored Mustang that had to be from probably the seventies or older, although Michael was guessing based on what little human television he’d seen. It was painted a shiny cherry red and nothing like he expected from her.

For a woman this bubbly and overly caring?

He expected a hybrid car of some type in a bright blue. Not that he’d given it much thought, but this muscle car definitely hadn’t been on his list.

She opened her door and unlocked his. “So, since we’re stuck with each other---”

“Understatement,” he groused, rolling his eyes as he slid into place in the passenger seat. “But you were saying?”

Ella flinched a little at the reminder, but she needed to get used to it. Facts were facts. He was grounded and basically mortal, except for the lifespan, assuming he didn’t accidentally get hit by a bus or catch a bad flu or whatever it was humans did to shuffle off the mortal coil, and she was on Dad’s list of stuff He actually gave a crap about for the foreseeable future. Because somehow this consummate nerd was something even Dad wasn’t familiar with.

Sure, right.

And Michael was also the damn Easter Bunny.

But there was no way to sugar coat it, and he had even odds she’d try at some point and go farther than 100 yards from him and have the same snap back happen to her too. They weren’t having a sleep over. They weren’t having _more_ than a sleepover. They were stuck as inmates, essentially, although he knew his twin well enough to assume that the creature comforts for them would be excellent. Still, it was what it was, and the sooner Lopez acclimated to the fact that this was a _punishment_ and that Father excelled at those, the better off she’d be.

After all, Michael had always been gifted with dispelling illusions. It went hand-in-hand with his mastery over fear itself.

“Anyway,” she said, starting the engine, which purred to life with a lovely bass. Idly, Michael wondered where and how she’d ever afforded such a car. It couldn’t have been cheap. “I think we need a few rules on how this is going to go.”

Michael snorted as she pulled out of the parking space and down the nearest ramp. “Well, I plan to figure out what you are as soon as possible, even if powers wise you’ve been disappointing.”

“I’m _normal_ , except for seeing Rae Rae. I’ve always been normal.”

He sighed. “Clearly, chica, you’re anything but. Anyway, when not trying to figure you out so I can get out of this ersatz jail deal, I also am going to spend my time exactly 99 yards from you.”

She flinched at that, and for a moment, Michael felt a bit like he’d actually kicked a puppy. He drummed the fingers of his left hand against his thigh, as always at this time in the evening, his right hand hung dead on his leg. Fine motor movement with that hand was beyond him anyway, had been since before the Garden of Eden.

“Look, you’re nice for a human. Probably too nice.”

“I’m really not,” she said, pulling sharply out into traffic from the garage and barely missing being hit on _his_ side.

“Whoa! Okay, remind me not to piss off the driver. I really don’t want to die while I’m temporarily vulnerable. It’s embarrassing. Besides, who wants to be pancaked?”

“Technically, I had room and I’m a faster driver than that. Also, you’d have been t-boned.”

Michael considered her and the glare she was aiming his way. _Huh, kitten has claws_. “Fine, you’re bouncy and perky and empathetic and way too nice for the likes of me, chica, regardless of whatever you are.”

  
“Stop saying that.”

“What? It’s true. You’re a huge mystery and if you weren’t, then we wouldn’t even be paired up. I mean, honestly, Samael would still have you nicely in the dark as the only human he spends tons of time with who has no clue. But, clearly, you’re a something else and you get to know all the Celestial insider details. Congrats on the upgrade, I guess.”

Ella grumbled to herself something terse in Spanish that Michael didn’t know but figured was far from polite as she turned onto a highway on ramp. “I’m _normal_.”

“This would go better if you weren’t in denial, Lopez.”

She kept her eyes on the freeway even as they accelerated and, honestly, Michael had never thought much of cars being terrifying before or the 405 for that matter when he’d had to ride share, but now he was very aware of the fact that Ella was an aggressive driver.

“Look, dude, you have no idea what’s been going on with me.”

“Actually, I can read it off you. I mean, the serial killer bit.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, so sure I don’t know what it’s like to have never been aware of Celestials and demons and everything else since I am one, but I can get you’ve had a weird week, okay?”

“Not even weird.” She said, and Michael moved his left hand from his leg to the dashboard and grabbed hard onto it as she accelerated. He was pretty sure they were gonna hit eighty-five. “I almost died. My boyfriend almost _murdered_ me. I still have the bruises. I go to my job to get a few things to help me relax cause I left my headphones there like a total moron, and I end up finding out my best friend has bluffed his ass off to me and is so _not_ a method actor---”

“Well, if you kept refusing to accept years ago that obviously Sam was _that_ Lucifer, then that’s kind of on you. Humans…” he paused at that and considered her. “…or whatever you are need that denial. You didn’t need to cling to it. _No one_ made you.”

“Ugh, when Lucifer and I do get to talk about everything, somehow I feel he’ll throw the same thing in my face.”

“My twin and I are nothing alike.”

Ella frowned but didn’t let the car’s pace slow, much to Michael’s annoyance. “No, you totally are, and it’s not the fact you’re identical. It’s more that I can tell. It’s like you’re _both_ the hot head.”

“Oh, that’s very much Sam’s racket.”

“Dude, you came here and threw a weeks’ long tantrum that, from what I’ve pieced together and Amenadiel said, was pretty fucked up.”

“True, but it was eons in coming. Sam had a Rebellion that very much got some of our siblings killed---though not by his own hand of course he’ll say---and got a few of them besides Samael damned too. So, I am _not_ the hot head here.”

“Both of you were basically shooting daggers at the Big Guy. Neither of you are as calm as Amenadiel.”

“Amenadiel is a sucker and a sycophant to Dad. I know; I was there myself. But I’m not anymore.” Michael shrugged and it exaggerated the hunch of his right side. “I learned that on my own long ago. Father doesn’t care.”

“Lucifer says that.”

“A broken clock is right twice a day,” he said, rolling his eyes as she turned toward downtown and neared the hustle and bustle of the club district. “Father isn’t kind and loving and all that other crap you must have heard at mass.”

Ella’s face crumbled at that, and while annoying pangs of guilt kept picking at him, Michael still forced himself to ignore it. For all he knew, it was part of her cover. Feel bad for what _felt_ like a kicked human, while whatever she was actually got her hooks in you. He was one of the smarter Host; Ella Lopez wouldn’t catch him unguarded.

“That’s the worst part. All this, after struggling with faith and coming back to the Big Guy, and He doesn’t even trust me! I mean, I thought He was in my corner and all I get is apparently being bungee corded to the biggest asshole in heaven.”

Michael narrowed his eyes at her. “I wouldn’t say I’m the _biggest_ asshole among the Host. You haven’t even met Remiel. She wanted to cut Charlie from Linda’s womb when she was about seven months along and steal him up to Heaven. Honestly, that would have been ironic now considering the child is utterly mortal. Also, again, see how I told her _not_ to before she took off to harass Amenadiel. I wouldn’t cut into a human’s belly and just hope they lived.”

Ella gaped at him as she pulled into the valet parking circle at _Lux_. “What?”

“See, I have far worse siblings!”

“You can see how that’s apparently a freaking low bar. I just thought the Big Guy and angels would be different. I mean, Luce is nice to me, and I really missed him while he was gone. Amenadiel is very calming and seems really centered. What the fuck happened to the rest of you?”

Michael shrugged again and ignored the way her eyes lingered on his weak, unresponsive side. “Dad and Mom happened. Trust me, God and the Goddess weren’t exactly the multiverse’s best parents.”

Ella nodded. “But I do care about Him. I just…I don’t understand the rejection.”

“You and Sam will have to commiserate on that. I only got the subtle rejection, the pretend I don’t exist and do fuck all to fix my side routine. That’s what I got for Defending Him in battle. I…it’s not because of your personality, Lopez. Again, I’ve rarely met someone who seems so nauseatingly energetic and kind.”

“Gee, thanks, _culo_.”  
  


“Anyway,” he continued, ignoring the slight. “you’re a good person. It’s just that since Dad didn’t make you and none of us apparently know who did, He’s nervous. I don’t think you get how big a deal what you just did was.”

“I didn’t _do_ anything,” she said, hopping out of the car.

Michael sluggishly followed her lead. “Are you going to pay the valet?”

“I’m gonna tip. I mean, obviously Lucifer is covering the parking and why do you care?”

“Well it’s fifteen bucks and---”

She glared at him and handed the attendant in the red vest a twenty. “Everyone’s gotta work. I used to be a waitress in high school, and it sucked. The worst thing is not getting a tip at all.”

“But he’s just parking a car, not doing brain surgery.”

Ella glared at him. “Yeah, I take that back. You’re _nothing_ like your brother.”

“Sam has money to burn. Some of us angels? Not so much. I mean, Amenadiel has a rich baby momma but seriously, that stuff doesn’t grow on trees.”

“You sound like my _papí_.”

Michael shrugged. “Maybe but I’m just giving you good advice.”

“You were squatting in an abandoned lion cage!”

“It wasn’t that bad,” he confided.

Ella stepped in front of him and he let her, although, and he wasn’t sure why exactly, Michael still felt compelled to place a hand on her shoulder and reassure her. “Look, Lopez, you’re nice, and I think you’re trustworthy. We figure out what you are---and you’re the scientist here---and prove to Dad that you’re all on the up and up.”

“I _am_.”

“Then, great. You’ll be able to get into His good graces. I mean, if Azrael, Amenadiel, and even Sam all agree on your merits, I’m sure Dad can come around, as much as He tends to care about any one, uh, humanish person.”

“But I still don’t…I don’t have powers.”

Michael sighed as they showed their i.d. to the bouncer. He clearly knew Ella on sight and just shook his head at the mess Michael was.

“Lucifer said go to his penthouse straight up, and he’ll get you both the keys, Miss Lopez and Asshole,” the bouncer finished.

Michael pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sa… _Lucifer_ made you say that, didn’t he?”

“Exactly, buddy. Get your butts up there. I don’t want to get in the middle of any family bullshit. I just follow the boss’s orders.”

Ella nodded, reached behind her, and grabbed Michael’s good hand. “Great, we’ll just head on up and _not_ get into pissing contests.”

He followed her obligingly. But if she thought there wouldn’t be pissing contests between him and Samael while he was living under the traitor’s roof then that was just naïve. They passed through the club where Sam’s employees were getting everything readied for the day, and Michael eased onto the penthouse elevator alongside Ella. He was tired, had his ass beat by his twin, and his powers stripped by Father, and spent futile time in the lab trying to play twenty questions with Lopez’s species, essentially. Forgive him if he leaned heavily on the wall of the elevator to keep him from tumbling forward.

“What happened?” Ella asked.

He scowled at her. “That’s a rude question. I…maybe later, chica. We have plenty of time together.” Michael softened a little despite his mood and offered her a small smile. It probably came out like a grimace, but he tried at least. “Before we get to Sam’s…just…I don’t think you get it yet, but humans---real ones---they freak out with actual divinity. Even if you somehow slipped under Amenadiel’s power for a different reason than being something _other_ , well, you saw two sets of angel wings _and_ weathered Father’s wrath.”

“But they’re beautiful.”

Michael stilled and his right side hurt so damn much in that moment. Yes, usually wings were the most gorgeous of divine gifts. His right one, not so much, but he’d used it to expel the Great Serpent from Heaven, and shouldn’t that have earned him more than the mess he was in now?

“They are, especially Samael’s. Even now, you can see the traces of The Lightbringer in him, but humans can’t process it. That much exposure should have had you a babbling, incoherent mess. You know ‘be not afraid’ and everything?”

“Oh right!”

“Yeah, so you’re _something_. I’ll help you figure it out, we get uncoupled, and Dad will welcome you into the fold with open arms or His equivalent.”

Ella sniffled and rubbed at reddened eyes. “What if I don’t want to be something else?”

Michael winced at the pain lancing through his side. “Trust me, chica, as someone who knows. We don’t get those choices. Best to figure it out, make the most of it, and move on.”

“Is that what you did?”

  
“Well,” he said, forcing himself to stand straight. “I’m obviously no one to emulate. You don’t want to be like me. People actually like you.”

Ella narrowed her eyes up at him. “Maybe they’d like you too if you didn’t try to steal their girlfriends or worry them about their babies or abduct them to the zoo.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “So Chloe sat in the dirt for a few hours, and I’ll have you know, she rejected my latte, which I got to her exactly as she ordered it. No one got hurt.”

Ella’s eyes widened and, for a second, Michael got the uncanny feeling that she was reading him. Maybe he was just that obvious. Reaching up, she didn’t quite touch his face, but she almost dared to cup his cheek, just stopped short of contact. “You did though.”

“Well, like I said, I’m the asshole here. So,” he concluded, as the elevator stopped. “Let’s talk to the landlord and get this over with.”

The doors opened soon after, and Michael let Ella slip out first. Honestly, he tended to let everyone walk in front of him both because it was easier to hide his limp if no one got a chance to study them closely plus his back…well he wanted to make sure as few people as possible snuck up on him. Especially now that he was vulnerable.

Samael was at the piano with a tumbler of Scotch and sitting there as if _nothing_ had happened, and he was still Master of the Universe, because of course he was. However, even Michael could notice the way his twin brightened when Ella walked into the room.

Sam stood and offered his arms out wide for her. “Miss Lopez, I’ll spot you a hug this time. You’ve had quite the rough thirty-six hours, haven’t you?”

Ella darted over to him and wrapped him up tight. Michael rolled his eyes at such a display and ignored the flickers of jealousy roiling through him. He wasn’t really jealous. He’d been hugged once by Ella when she thought he was his twin, during that space station case, and Michael didn’t need a repeat. Besides, he wasn’t jealous of Sam anyway. He was just annoyed. His twin always got everything, including human friends like Linda and Ella to hang all over him.

Apparently no one, even the First Born any longer, saw the Devil for who he was.

“You can say that again,” Ella said, giving Sam a final squeeze before stepping back from him. “I’m super tired. Is everything okay downstairs?”

Sam nodded at Ella but kept most of his focus on him. As if Michael could be a threat now. He had no strength and no invulnerability. With both of those intact, he’d _still_ been carved up. Currently? Sam could make mincemeat out of him without breaking a sweat. Not something Michael was looking forward to.

“Yes, you have the floor six down from mine. It’s was an apartment space even before I moved in. I’ve never used it. Amenadiel had a flat a floor below my own. However, I figured both of you would want a bit more space than that.”

Ella snickered and playfully punched at Sam’s shoulder. “Oh, I bet! You and Chloe need all the privacy you can get, _hermano_. Hey! Is she here?”

Sam deflated a little at that. “No, I…with everything going on and having seen Dad again after so long, well, I needed some time, and she’d been needing to reconnect with the urchin. We’ll be seeing each other this weekend. Until then, everything from your apartment has been moved in.” Sam sighed theatrically then. “Miss Lopez, the movers found a chicken in your bathtub. Is that normal?”

“Oh yeah! I never told you about Margaret. She’s great!”

Samael’s eyes grew large, and as his twin was wont to do, he skated the truth masterfully. “I am sure you enjoy her company greatly. She might have been agitated by the move, but she’s in the bathtub below. Everything should be self-evident, but the set-up is your side to the left once you get off the elevator with bedroom and en suite, a kitchen and living area, and my arsehole brother---”

“I can hear you!”

“I know,” Sam purred. “He has the right with the same basic en suite arrangement. If you’ve any trouble with him, call me, and Amenadiel and I will straighten him out.” Sam eyed him and chuckled to himself. “As much as he can be, of course.”

Michael stood taller and faked his approximation of Sam’s posture just to make his point. “I’m fine, _Samael_ , and I wouldn’t hurt her. Not only am I _not_ a complete moron---”

“Jury’s out on that.”

“I’m not an idiot, and I’m sure Father doesn’t want her harmed until He knows what she is. But I have no interest in it. Lopez is decent enough, and I don’t go harming mortals for no reason.”

“You did a number on Daniel,” Sam replied, shoving his hands in his pants pockets.

Michael shrugged and forced his right shoulder to raise almost as well as his left. That would definitely cost him when lying in bed later that night, he could tell. “Your face literally did that, Sammy. Besides,” he said, eying Ella. “that’s honestly the price you pay for lying _by omission_ to your human pets. Dan Espinoza just like Ella here had a right to know what you are. He knows. Deal with your own messes.”

Ella looked between them. “Wait, _Dan_ knows? How does he know before me! Did you tell him when you two were doing the _Diablo_ scripts because that’s so not fair!”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Hardly. My brother found a way to ambush Dan essentially, and get him to spy me at less than my finest moment.”

“Wait, do you actually have horns?” Ella asked, her curiosity more piqued than her fear.

Samael offered her a tight smile. “No, those I lack. However, I…do you understand the concept of a glamour?”  
  


“Dude, I have been playing DnD campaigns since I was like twelve. I know my fantasy and magic. Oh, so you don’t really look like this?”

Michael frowned and studied his twin, curious to see how well Sam would skate the truth this time. “Do tell, Sammy.”

His twin sighed. “Once Michael and I were identical. Before I Fell, but after, well, things happened and sometimes I have a different face. For a long time, I thought I could glamour this image to be more aesthetically pleasing. To be rather fair, it was my countenance long ago in the Silver City. However, recently, I think that both are my face and…it’s not especially pleasant, no. You finding out by seeing my wings is the preferable option, Miss Lopez, I assure you.”

“No floor show?” Michael pressed.

Samael’s jaw tightened and he glared at him, and Michael was impressed that his eyes didn’t even flicker red in his anger. “No, not tonight, especially with as much as Miss Lopez has already endured. Why don’t you both retire for the night? Whatever Father wants or thinks He needs you two to do can wait until tomorrow afternoon. I’ll have something sent for breakfast.”

“How sweet of you,” Michael said, forcing his words into a sing-song quality. “I didn’t know you cared.”

“I don’t for you, but Miss Lopez will need the sustenance, and I assume you’ll think better after being fed, as well, Mikey. I’d like to unravel what she is so that we can get rid of you as fast as possible. I can’t think of a single reason to keep your sorry backside around.”

Ella held up her hands and came to stand between them. “Hey, I’m right here, so, you know, from now on no one gets to talk about what I am or figuring me out like I’m a puzzle and not a person.”

Sam looked at his very shiny floor. “I’m sorry. That was rather uncouth of me.”

Michael shrugged. “Lopez, I’ll try and keep that in mind.”

“Also, you two…this sucks. I’m under so much stress, and I don’t want to make it worse by having you two picking at each other. I mean, okay Catechism, not an idiot. I _know_.”

Samael poked his head back up and considered her. “What now?”

Ella rolled her eyes. “That in the Rebellion…unless it’s way off base…but that Michael threw you out on God’s behalf. I am not even…I mean my brothers fight all the time, but that’s a record holder of fucked up. But if you two want to fight and snipe at each other, great. Do it when I’m not within 99 yards of him _or_ you two can do it after Michael and I aren’t coupled together.”

Michael blanched at her phrasing and held up his hands. “It’s not like that, Sam.”

His brother’s eyes did flash then. “Oh, it most assuredly better not be. Anyway, that seems agreeable. For your sake, Miss Lopez, I will not argue with this miscreant. I also apologize for not being sensitive about your identity.”

Ella rolled her eyes and walked to the bar long enough to grab a can of seltzer water and dive into it. “I’m human. I’m sure this is some weird, cosmic mix up. In a few days, your brother and I will prove it and problems solved, you know? Trust me, if I could do something cool, then I would have by now.”

Samael frowned. “Your immunity to the divine and the Almighty Presence’s wrath suggest otherwise, _hermana_.”

“It’s a mix-up. So, you know, until I prove conclusively that the Big guy is apparently confused about me, I’m a _human_.”

Michael snickered softly but said nothing out loud. To his brother, he aimed a small prayer, one which had to go by his twin’s more famous moniker at that:

_Dear Lucifer, you certainly found the humans in Los Angeles most invested in denial, didn’t you? That’s actually pretty clever._

Sam flashed his eyes directly at Michael a second time as if that would scare him:

_Dear St. Michael, do shut your gob._

Michael held up his hands and chuckled. “Fine, I’ll play nice. I just am amazed at your taste, Brother.”

Ella finished her drink and nodded toward the elevator. “This girl is beat, so, Mikey, you coming?”

Samael gave her a bow (again because _of course_ he did) and smiled towards her. “If you don’t mind. I’d like a quick word with my brother. Feel free to just wash your face off or tarry a bit in my bathroom or even on the veranda. It won’t take long.”

She eyed him with a surprising amount of moxie for a human or, well, _whatever_ she was. “You’re not going to beat him up, are you?”

“I would have liked to, but I assume that’s not allowed?”

“Dude, did you not just hear me?”

Sam sighed. “Fine, but I would like to make sure he has the best of intentions, as much as this weasel can.”

Ella nodded and, as she passed by Michael, patted him on his good shoulder as if they were BFFs about to head off to a damn slumber party. “Good, I’ll be on the balcony. Be nice, Lucifer.”

“I’m always a gentleman,” he said, offering her a tight smile as Ella slipped onto the veranda and away from them.

Once she had the door shut behind her, Sam rounded on him, his face going as red as it ever had been and his eyes blazing with Hell fire itself. True to his word, Samael stepped as close to Michael as he could, but he didn’t actually touch him. In the few brushes he’d had with Sam since the Rebellion, sometimes helping Amenadiel herd the Adversary back to Hell, Michael had seen this side of his twin. It was as ugly now as it had been the first time.

And it served as an easy reminder that his missing invulnerability and strength were the _least_ of what Father could do to him.

“If you hurt her in any way, I will end you, Michael. Do you understand that?”

“I’m not the one who decided we needed to play _Odd Couple_. Take that up with Father.”

Samael cursed in Lilim under his breath. “Oh, if that pillock hadn’t popped off to who knows which universe, I damn well would have by now. But you don’t harm her, you don’t use your power on her, and you don’t make her feel worse about this whole bloody situation. And above all things, if you dare _touch_ her, I’ll drag you to your own room in Hell myself and run it for you for centuries. _Personally_.”

Michael blinked back at his twin, such as he was. “Wait, what? I am not going to hurt her. It’s like trying to drown a duckling. It’d be a dick move.”

“You specialize in those.”

“Not like this. I am not going to hurt her. It wouldn’t be like fair sportsmanship or whatever. Also, Dad would smite me worse than He has you. But what do you mean _touch_ her?”

Sam shook his head and in a moment the face they’d both been born with was back before Michael. In Samael’s case, it was scar free. The bastard. “You know damn well what I mean. Neither harm her or seduce her. She’s not in any game of yours. Those stop now. Do you hear me?”

Michael snorted. “I want out of this arrangement and to get my full powers back. Trust me, Brother, you’re the one who plays with humans. I don’t do that.”  
  


“Seemed more than interested with the Detective.”

Michael inhaled sharply. “That was a momentary weakness. I won’t do anything but figure out whatever’s wrong with your ‘Miss Lopez,’” he said, affecting his twin’s asinine accent for a moment. “I won’t hurt her or fuck her. Good enough for you now, Sammy?”

His twin looked to the balcony where Ella was leaning over the railing and staring out at the stars. “Good, see that you don’t. Now, Brother, get out. You’re not welcome in the penthouse.”

Michael strode as best as he could to the veranda and opened up the sliding door. “Lopez, let’s go.”

She frowned back at him. “Did Luce---”

“No, we’re good. We came to a brotherly understanding. I’m dead on my feet too. Let’s get some sleep.”

“Works for me.”  
**

Michael had to hand it to Samael. The living room was well furnished and comfy and had more electronics than the average _Best Buy_. He had no idea what half of the devices hooked up to the obscenely large big screen were but Ella squealed over them and the amply decked out gaming chair as well. His own room was simply appointed. It had a few turtlenecks and slacks in the closet, some underwear in his one modest dresser, and a double bed---fair point well made there, Sammy---with plain white cotton sheets. It was Spartan compared to the living room, but it fit Michael’s style anyway.

He barely got his slacks and turtleneck off before passing out on his bed. Without his own resilience, Michael was bone weary and figured he could have slept for a dozen hours or more. Or he would have, if he hadn’t bolted upright some time later with a tsunami of fear hitting him. Part of him, the part he loathed more than anything, the part that Father had made specifically for such purposes, relished the feeling of the fear as it washed over him. It was more potent than most things he felt, an utterly existential terror that had more sway than the usual human anxieties. Most of him, the part that somehow even now remained the Sword of God despite his maiming, was appalled and worried.

_It was Ella’s fear._

And while some of it held a hint of the scent of lilies and the feel of strong hands around her throat, most of it was a sharp, crushing heartache. The fear that God had rejected her forever.

Michael shuffled out of bed, fumbling just enough to slip his turtleneck back on before hurrying as best as he could across the expanse of the apartment and into Ella’s room, which was furnished with a king bed, silk sheets, and a myriad of stuffed animals and posters. Nerd things, he figured, and somehow he suspected that only _some_ of them had originally been hers. Sam was clearly trying to compensate for the shit show that Ella’s life had fallen into and doing it via material means like the idiot he was.

Ella was tossing and turning in bed, not screaming, but the fear from her nightmares was deep enough that Michael didn’t need to hear the screams to _feel all of the terror_ emanating from her.

Michael sat down on the corner of her bed. “Lopez, hey, wake up.”

She stirred more but didn’t open her eyes yet. Michael felt a stab of fear so harsh that it doubled him over. Taking in deep gulps of air, Michael reached out and pressed a hand to her knee.

“ _Ella_ , wake up, please. I…please.” He shook her harder, and she finally bolted up, blinking wildly at him.

“Lucifer?”

Michael shook his head and, for once, tried not to take offense at being confused for Samael. “No, just the other one.”

Ella frowned and took in a shuddering breath. “Right, Mikey. I…oh, none of that was a crazy dream, was it?”

“Afraid not,” he replied. Michael stood awkwardly and started toward her doorway. “I…look Ella maybe I should get out of here. You were having a nightmare, and I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

She sniffled and pulled her knees up to her chest. “I’m really not. Sorry I screamed and woke you.”

“You didn’t scream. I _felt_ it.”

She blinked up at him. “I’m confused.”

“Fear…it ties in well with nightmares. Yours were _loud_.” Michael did not add that a part of him had found them singularly delicious. He knew how damn creepy that was. “It’s going to be okay, you know?”

Ella cried at that, tears running down her cheeks. “Lucifer’s the one that never lies. You are all about the _mentiras_ , so I must be really screwed.”

He wasn’t sure what compelled him to do it, but against his better judgment and his twin’s threats, Michael eased back to the bed and sidled down next to her. Opening up his arms as best he could, Michael quirked his head at her. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Do you even care?”

“It was a lot of fear, Lopez. It’d be better if you talked about it.”

She nodded and curled into his arms. “I just don’t want Him to hate me.”

Michael didn’t need to ask who; he’d felt it after all. “Father’s not used to surprises, which is impressive if you think about it after billions years.”

Ella coughed out a laugh. “You guys are really old.”

“In a way,” he admitted. “Perhaps we aren't that mature though.”

“Totally, you almost make Ricardo look responsible.”

Michael nodded and awkwardly stroked her hair with his good hand. “I’ll try not to be offended by that. Look, I mean it. Whatever you are was good enough to make the Devil, the First Born of all the Host, and the Angel of Death adore you. You’re gonna win Dad over. It’s not like you’re dangerous.”

Ella snorted. “I’m kind of a dud. Nothing different about me.”

“We’ll find it,” Michael offered.

  
“What if your dad is more like you?”

“Dad and I have very little in common. I promise you.” He frowned at her words. “Wait? What do you mean ‘like me?’”

“You hate me. You’re going to keep 99 yards away from me, right?”

“I don’t like anyone; it’s not personal.” He sighed and let his hand drop, although he still let her sit curled up against him. Even now, he could feel the fear pulsing from her, and it would make most humans a screaming wreck. Another point in the Ella Lopez was _other_ column. “No one should be in close proximity to me for long. My ability makes everyone low key anxious. If I lose control of my walls or get too relaxed, then you’ll feel worse.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. You’re fine. Way too perky and I don’t need that much caffeine in my life, but you’re a good person, Lopez. Maybe not a human person, but I’ve never found humans all that great. That said, after a day or two, you’ll get that anxiety vibe from me---I can’t turn my powers off the way Sam and Menny can. I just…it’s better for you if I’m just as far from you as I can be.”

“I don’t know if I believe that. I’m less scared now than when you woke me up.”

“Yeah but…” he sighed and stood up. “You’ll feel worse. Humans always do, and you’re close enough that I’m sure I’ll get to you too.” He tried to smile for her, but he knew it always came out as oily and pained on his face, always twisted from the debonair expression Samael could offer in his place. “But Dad will love you too.”

Dubious, but Dad had always cared for his pets and his passing fancies more than the Host anyway. For all Michael knew, it was true.

“Really?”

“Probably,” he said, winking at her. “Now, get some sleep, and don’t you or that weird chicken squawking in your tub wake me before one. You’ll understand what an avenging angel is if you do.”

“Fine, whatever, Mikey.”

“My pleasure, Lopez.” He turned to go and almost fell at the force of the fear welling up in her again. And they’d been doing so well. “I…you’re okay. You’re safe, chica. The Devil is a heavy hitter, and he’s sixty feet up. You have, an admittedly wounded Sword of God, but I still have my wings. You’re _safe_. Some puke like that ex of yours can’t get you here.”

She shook her head and then gave out a pained whimper. “I don’t even care about Pete anymore. Almost two days ago, I felt like I’d never feel better. I just…but that’s not so bad.” She gestured to herself, raking her hand over her petite frame. “He said he felt a darkness in me, and maybe whatever I am explains why I always made crappy decisions---stealing cars, gambling, going for the bad boys, and even being so good at taking down Pete with his own weapon. I dunno. Maybe there’s something really _wrong_ with me if even the Big Guy’s spooked.”

“That might be an overstatement.”

She looked up at him, and for whatever reason he wished there was something simple he could do, something he could _punch_ to make her feel better. “I think Pete was right. I just…can you help me?”

“I can try. Look, tomorrow, we’ll do that science thing you do so well, and we’ll research whatever it is you are. I just, ‘be not afraid,’ right? You just need to get some rest. If anything happens, I’ll be here, okay?”

She nodded, reached out, and grabbed his right forearm. Michael almost shrugged her off on instinct. No one touched his weak side. _No one_. “Thank you. You’re not so bad for the Angel of Fear.”

Michael felt something thrumming through him, something like electricity under his skin that seemed to radiate from such a simple touch. His shoulders twitched and, with dawning horror, he realized his pathetic mockery of wings wanted to pop out.

_Unacceptable._

They were shameful, and he avoided looking at him when he could. They were at best mostly functional and that was all anyone could say about them. They certainly couldn’t hold a candle to the Lightbringer’s wings, even now, and how was _that_ fair, Father?

“I…great,” he said, hurrying from her bedroom, down the hall past her damn chicken, and making it as far as the living room.

Michael gasped as a familiar ache tore into his right shoulder and his wings forced their way out. Breathing in and out, he almost collapsed at the force of their unfurling and that the warmth still swirling through him and toward the core of his body.

_What on earth?_

But as good and as confused as he felt, as _other_ things happened to his body too, Michael had the horrifying realization that unfurling his wings was far more complicated on the earthly plane than it was supposed to be. Confused, his mind flashed back to Ella with her lithe limbs, her doe eyes, and the soft touch of her hand on his forearm.

Unbidden, his wings fluttered behind him.

Fuck, he was in a lot of trouble.


	3. Science!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael starts trying to figure out what Ella can do in earnest and, honestly, it's a lot.

  1. **Science!**



Michael didn’t wake until way past two p.m. That was fine, considering the day before was complete with a brotherly smackdown, Father’s punishment, and comforting his new ball and chain, Michael wasn’t exactly brimming with energy. Or, more accurately, he was brimming with the wrong kind of energy. After he’d comforted Ella, he’d spent the better part of an hour trying to get his wings to go back in, and there had been other things that had been even more distracting. Michael wasn’t an idiot, and he’d passed his time on earth. For Dad’s sake, one could hardly help Amenadiel on occasion shove Samael back to Hell _without_ stumbling upon self-indulgent orgies.

It was just that despite knowing intellectually and, ugh, from unfortunate duty what an erection was, Michael had never had that happen to him before. And he’d certainly never had it _tied_ so closely to his wings. As if once, ahem, one thing popped up, the rest of him had a mind of its own.

But he was, low has he’d fallen, still an archangel and blessed with divinity. He wasn’t going to rut around like Samael, and he wasn’t going to create woefully deficient spawn as Amenadiel somehow had. So, he’d sat most uncomfortably in his too short bed---and damn it if Sam hadn’t know that it wasn’t quite enough and his feet would fall off because of course the Devil exceled at subtle torture---and tried to think of _anything_ but Ella.

It hadn’t worked well, but eventually he’d passed out some time as the sun was turning the sky grey outside. When he woke, at least his hard-on was finally gone, a match to his wings, which he’d been able to shove aside long before he fell asleep.

Yawning to himself and, for once, not feeling but so stiff on his right side (sleep helped), Michael got up and shoved on his clothes. There weren’t many options with the wardrobe Sam had procured, and Michael honestly preferred it that way. Most of his slacks were brown and he slipped the nearest pair on and grabbed a camel colored turtleneck. Serviceable, and that was all that as needed.

He was still a little groggy as he shuffled into their shared living room, and that was quite the experience. There wasn’t exactly a roommate system in the Silver City, and he’d not been near anyone in a living situation while on earth either. So, well, communal space was a novel thing. Michael wasn’t sure he’d like it. No, scratch that, the minute he spied Ella Lopez in a pair of sky blue sleep shorts that were so very high on her thighs and a tight white tank top, he was certain he would _not_ like the arrangement.

His shoulder blades already ached, and he was glad for his pants fitting illy. They were baggy enough that, perhaps, Ella wouldn’t notice anything else. Even if he _did_.

She was sitting on the couch, munching on a plate overflowing with eggs benedict, poached salmon, and a lot of bacon. Smirking up at him, she pointed to the kitchen counter and at a spread most hotels wouldn’t have shelled out for.

“I think Lucifer feels guilty about the whole thing. I mean, it’s not technically his fault your dad is, uh, mad at me or we’re stuck together, but he’s probably compensating with nice loot and food. You hungry?”

Michael swallowed and tried to ignore the voice in his head pointedly reminding him that not only was that an opportune question, but that he wasn’t as hungry for sustenance as he was for _other things_. Still, now that Lopez had mentioned it, his stomach was rumbling.

Odd that.

He had to eat. That wasn’t a requirement in the Silver City, but on the mortal plane, eventually even Celestials needed food and sleep like any mortal would. It was just they could go longer without it and, possibly, if Sam was anyone to go by, live mostly on Scotch and sugar. However, it had only been a day since he’d eaten last, not his usual three to four (going as long as he could saved money after all). And Michael was famished.

Nodding and glad to have something to focus on that wasn’t Ella, Michael walked to the spread and started filling his plate with sausage, scrambled eggs, bacon, and some melon. He figured that the melon canceled things out, right? It was healthy. Not that he knew much about that. Angels had remarkable constitutions, but it might be a while before Father restored his invulnerability, and it was probably best not to ruin his arteries in the mean time. After today, surely, Michael would do better.

Actual hunger was just a new experience. Like lust, and he probably needed to blame his stripped powers for this mess.

Taking the brimming plate in his left hand (his right arm barely moved on the best of days), Michael walked back to the lounge part of the living room and sat in an arm chair as far from Ella as he could get. She was already so scantily clad, which made sense, he supposed, in Southern California, though he was sure Sam’s facilities had more than enough air conditioning. Anyway, it was distracting enough to catch a glimpse of the olive-colored skin of her legs or the dip of her cleavage under her tank top.

Being up close to it would be too much to bear.

Ella looked up and frowned a little when she realized he’d opted to camp out so far from her, but she recovered quickly, and that excited Golden Retriever expression was plastered back on her face.

“So, I guess that answers it.”

“Answers what?” he asked, biting into some bacon and, damn it, Sam had found good catering wherever he had. Some angels, or whatever Samael counted as now, would always have all the luck.

“Well, I wasn’t sure if angels eat. I mean, I’ve seen Lucifer---”

“He’s not one of us.”  
  


She glared back at him. “Dude was an angel, and I saw the fluffy white wings, so I’m thinking that still counts.”

“After a fashion,” Michael said. “But the Devil isn’t one of us, and he’s definitely not welcome in the Silver City. Ever.”

“Fine, but okay so Lucifer eats like mini-donuts and cool ranch puffs when he’s desperate and I know he has that snob taste for things when he sets up dates for Chloe, super fancy stuff I can’t pronounce really, but I wasn’t sure what angels actually need.”

“Oh, so is this _Jeopardy_ now, Lopez? I’ll take ‘Celestials’ for two hundred, Alex’ and all that crap?” he asked, biting into some sweet green melon this time.

“Not exactly, but I mean, what do you need?”

“When not on Earth, not much. We don’t need air like mortals do. Helps when you are tasked with traveling through space and creating the very fabric of the universe.”

Her eyes lit up like pinball machines. “What? No way!”

“Yes, once Samael and I were busy little beavers and quite the good little servants for Dad. But when I’m on Earth, eventually some things catch up with me. Father only has _so many_ designs, and we’re not that much different from you. Yes, I need to sleep, eat, and drink, but not as often as you do. I do like it if someone else is paying, so why not gorge a little?”

Ella considered him and cut up another bite of her benedict. As she bit into it, and just a hint of the yellowed cream stuck on the edge of her mouth. Michael shifted in his seat and tried to ignore the urge to help kiss it off her.

_Really, Father, being on Earth is so debasing._

“Cool, so, uh, what else do you all need to do? Can you get injured?”

“Celestials can injure each other, demons can hurt us, beings from other pantheons on the Endless. Any blessed or demonically cursed weapons.” Michael sighed and thought about his own wings, about how yesterday the instinct was always go for them first, and use the blades his feathers naturally made during a brawl. “Angel wings are dangerous; we can cut each other deeply with them.”

“With feathers?”

“They’re not like your bathtub chicken, Minerva.”

“It’s Margaret, actually. I’m sure you’ll like her. She’s a little upset with the move, but she’s really nice. I’m teaching her tricks!”

Michael blinked at her. “Just because we have feathers in common, doesn’t mean we’re anything alike, or that I’d pass my time with a barnyard animal.”

“Your loss.” She picked up a slice of bacon with her fingers and slid it into her mouth and Michael’s shoulders twitched again. Perhaps he’d underestimated Father, and this was some kind of torture that was more insidious than the usual. “So, you can have feathers that are sharp?”

“The wings aren’t just transportation. It’s probably Sam’s biggest beef with Dad. We’re His tools, not really His children, and if you need to have good tools…of course you need good weapons. Hence the wings that are beyond dangerous.” He shrugged with his good side. “We’re hardly cuddly muppets.”

She nodded. “I saw the damage to the precinct. I didn’t think you all were. I just…this is a lot.” Her eyes grew wide and she set down her plate. That was distinctly worse because he had a better look at her tank top stretching over her breasts, and now his shoulders were throbbing. Michael felt the need to readjust the hem of his long turtleneck to cover his other problems.

“Ooh, so can you show me?” Ella asked.

“Show you what?”

“I know a little bit about feathers. Margaret’s had some molting seasons already. I help keep her preened, you know?”

“I am _not_ a chicken, Lopez. I…besides they’re not really your business. They’re not the best things for mortals, which we assume you are somewhat.”

She blanched at that and pushed her plate down to the far side of a couch cushion. “But I saw Lucifer’s and Amenadiel’s. I’m sure yours aren’t going to melt my brain, even if you’re a saint too.”

“Never asked for that, and mine are not…they are not nearly as spectacular as Samael’s. I’m _not_ the Lightbringer.”

“But you’re twins.”

Michael bit viciously into a sausage and tried to enjoy the food, but it tasted bitter on his tongue. Probably because of who had paid for it. Mouth still full, he replied, “We’re not exactly identical. Surely you noticed, and it’s not just about all the scars and wounds I’ve accumulated over the eons. Our wings were always different, and his are better. So, no, Lopez, you haven’t earned yourself a floor show, and that’s not germane.”

“Sorry,” she muttered. “I…okay, so what about, I dunno, other stuff you have to do?”

“I figured eating, sleeping, drinking and, yes on Earth, breathing about cover the basics. I don’t have my invulnerability because Dad is a prick, but that’s probably temporary.”

“Probably?”

“Dad can hold a grudge,” he admitted, going back to the melon. “But for now, I’m the resident angel who has to be careful of guns or trucks jumping the curb or, ugh Dad help me, a cold. Fun, right?”

“Otherwise?”

“Only something else otherworldly can harm or kill an angel, trust me. So, for right now Amenadiel and Samael are basically safe as houses.” He stood and took his plate to the sink. Michael didn’t offer to do the same for Ella. Lopez could handle herself. “That’s your science run down on angels then. Nothing else, right?”

She was quiet for a long time, and Michael looked back from cleaning his plate just to make sure she was still even there. If Lopez were having another existential freak out, they’d never get anywhere in figuring out what she was. And he’d be tied to _Lux_ for way too long. Unacceptable. However, when he turned toward her, he found the scientist blushing a deep red.

“What?” he asked.

“I…so, uh, about Charlie…”

His eyes widened, and he had to work hard and think of something odious like the late Uriel’s dull welcome speeches to keep his wings in check. His erection was a lost cause, but she couldn’t see it from behind the kitchen island anyway.

She couldn’t be asking about that, could she?

“What about little Chucky?”

“I…well, okay, duh, Lucifer has, you know, _a lot_.”

Michael rolled his eyes. This settled it, Dad was definitely punishing him at the next level. Maybe he was in a room in Hell of his very own and didn’t even know it yet. “Yes, I’m aware. My brother, as my sister, Remiel, puts it, is a slut.”

Ella’s cheeks were even more red at that. “I…yeah, but he’s the Devil so, uh…”

Michael rubbed at his right forearm, which was tensing up from stress and deferred desires. “Yes, well, angels are…we _can’t_ have children with humans. I guess ‘sterile’s’ the way to put it, which fortunate for Sam because the world would be overrun by antichrists by now otherwise. However, technically, yes, angels can do _that_ with humans. It’s just until Amenadiel, as far as I know, none ever did. And he was obviously very mortal---I don’t get it myself but he was for a bit---and that’s why Chucky’s here and 100% boringly normal.”

“He’s cute!”

“But he’s a disappointing Nephilim.”

“He’s still really adorable. I mean, not like some super genius even if Linda wants him to be. I do science lessons a few times a week with him. It’s a lot, but he’s super sweet, and he loves funny faces.”

Michael snorted and didn’t mean to, but his left hand came unbidden to his scar. “Well, then I guess Chucky would just love me.”

“I wasn’t---”

“No, but that’s most of what I can think of for Angel 101, capiche?”

Ella laughed and he was not not _not_ noticing how it made her modest bosom shake, not at all. “Why are you so New York?”

“I dunno, why is Sam British? I spent some time there a couple different times on work for Dad, and I liked it. My sister Azrael is all San Francisco in her accent, totally Nor Cal. We pick what we like over the years, what works.”

“I can’t believe that Rae Rae lied all this time!” Ella said, and then sighed. “Not that my parents would have believed angel more than a ghost but still!”

“We all lie, except Sam. He only lies by omission and tells himself he doesn’t. It’s some hypocrite thing of his.”  
  


Ella nodded and stood up, stretching as she did it, and Michael focused on the remains of scrambled eggs in the sink. “I called him on that even way before I knew. I know that Luce…he bluffs a lot or like compartmentalizes.”

“Also known as lying. There’s a lot he’s just not said to Chloe Decker, a lot of it about how Father made her for him because, of course, even now he’s the favorite.”

Ella blinked. “What?”

“What did you think I meant about ‘Sam’s miracle?’ I was being literal, Lopez. Like I said, Sam loves to talk around the facts, keep up the correct impression for everyone, but the actual truth? Yeah, Satan runs from that double quick. And they say I’m the jerk.”

She came to stand next to him and set her own plate in the sink. Michael stepped back and moved to thinking about Castiel’s off key singing at worship to keep him calmed down. “You hate him, don’t you?”

“Well, you can say I won the battle but probably lost the war when I did as Dad asked and tossed him out.”

She looked back up at him and eyed the slant of his posture and nodded. “You could have said no.”  
  


“Do you say no to God?”

“Not really, not most of the time until I had a crisis of faith last year. Who knew that now the Big Guy would have a crisis of faith in me?”

He sighed and patted her shoulder awkwardly. He was not the angel for whatever task this was. Dad had to know that Azrael had been hanging around Ella apparently for years. Why _not_ her? Or the Devil. Like his hedonistic ass was busy. Michael was crap at comforting anyone; it was quite literally antithetical to his constitution.

“Again, if you’re ready, well, we can try more experimentation and get to figuring out more about what you are. The sooner we finish, the more likely Dad will call this whole thing bygones and be alright with you.”

“Like I even did anything, and _none_ of this even makes sense!”

He patted her awkwardly once more and dropped his hand. “Get some actual clothes on and not just wallowing in your pajamas, and let’s do it, Lopez. You’re the practical type sometimes, right?” Michael prodded, even with the collection of board games and video gaming equipment in the living room that was probably not a guarantee, despite her day job.

“I can be. I work this like any other problem, totally,” she said, splashing a bit of cool water on her face from the sink and turning to smile at him. It was like a million megawatts and as bright as some of the stars his idiot twin had hung. “Great, let me get ready for the afternoon, and we’ll do it to it.”

She was halfway down the hall toward her half of the apartment when Ella called to him over her shoulder. “Hey, so, uh, if Amenadiel has come to Earth and had a lot of, um, _experience_ with humans, what about you? You’ve been here lots, right?”

Michael cursed in Enochian under his breath and bent over double at the sink with the rippling of his shoulder blades, especially the left one which was always better at letting his wing out. Ella was already passing her bathroom down the hallway, so she didn’t see that. He thought hard this time on Remiel’s annoying, shrill voice and forced those instincts away. His shoulders stilled.

“Lopez, let’s get to work. Time’s wasting. Some of us would like our invulnerability back!”

Ella sighed out of sight. “So that’s a ‘no?’”

“It’s a ‘hurry the fuck up!’”

**

Michael wasn’t sure if Ella was trying to send a message to him when she came out next.

At least while she’d taken time changing for the day, he’d gotten his wings calmed down. Also, _other_ things had settled back too. However, when Ella bounded down the hall and into the living room, she was wearing jeans, sneakers, and one of those ridiculous t-shirts she tended to wear around the lab. This one was of two polar bears on an ice flow. One was wearing a scarf and huddled grouchily under a personal rain cloud, and the other was bouncing with excitement and sitting under a rainbow. The caption, “Polar Opposites,” made Michael roll his eyes.

“Super fancy today, chica?”

“I love this shirt!” she exclaimed, and of course she was the type to be emphatic about so much. “I mean it’s funny.”

Michael wasn’t sure he agreed, but it was no dumber than her sloth shirt about Mondays or whatever cartoon pithiness she’d subject him to tomorrow. “Sure, whatever.” He gestured to the sofa and nodded. “After you.”

She surprised him by taking the gamer console chair instead, almost sinking into the giant thing and looking for all the world like she was about to pilot a fighter jet. _Humans_. Or well close enough apparently in Lopez’s case. “Okay, so we tried telekinesis, pyrokinesis, power of suggestion, and oh yeah!”

Ella looked straight at him and beamed:

_Dear St. Michael, I’m thinking of a purple-spotted octopus on roller skates._

He grumbled to himself. Yes, definitely, Dad had found a tenth circle of Hell for him to dwell in, and it was as cheery as a Care Bear. What even? “Yes, the praying works, great. How does an octopus even wear roller skates?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know!” She shrugged and played idly with one of the speakers near her head. “But I can’t get anything from you, so pretty sure it’s all just the prayer thing. What do you want to try next? Ooh, I could bring Margaret out, and see if I can talk to animals!”

Michael shook his head. “I don’t really want to hang out with a chicken. And don’t even start, Lopez. Just because we _both_ have wings and feathers doesn’t mean we have a lot in common.”

  
“I dunno,” Ella mused. “Margaret can be pretty snippy too when she wants to be.”

“I’m still an angel of the Lord, mostly,” he groused. “I outrank a chicken. Anyway, I think you might be…that we’re going about this process the wrong way.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned. “How so?”

“Well, there are quite a list of powers a member of another pantheon or one of the Endless or a so far unknown demon species could have.”

Ella yipped and her eyes grew even larger and more limpid. “What? I can’t be a demon!”

“It’s doubtful. That’s an outside chance, and really unlikely since Sam didn’t notice anything from you for years. However, if we test everything one at a time to get a big column of no, well, it’s like trying to crack a safe by just entering one number at a time.”

“Normally, you’d just write an algorithm and let a computer crack it. I guess there’s not a mystical equivalent?”

“No,” Michael replied, although the mystical wasn’t completely his thing. He fought the other gods and goddesses and their minions in battle or, well, he had long ago. He didn’t have some codex somewhere about each and every one. Michael knew how _his_ powers worked and how he tapped into them, and that was the best analogue he could work from. “But a more direct way is better. Chica, it’s not about trying everything; it’s about tapping into what you can do deep down.”

“Great, and that’s very Yoda-y---the real Yoda and not the Child---”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Dude! We have to do a _Star Wars_ night then, but just the original trilogy, _Rogue One_ , and _The Mandalorian._ The rest suck.”

Michael mimicked a duck quacking with his left hand. “Talk, talk, talk. It’s amazing you solve anything, Lopez. Even more considering I can tell you and my lesser half must get going and never stop. Sam’s many things, but in love with the sound of his own voice is top on that list.”

Ella shrunk in on herself at that. “I do talk too much.”

Michael quirked his head at her. That was a faster admission than he expected. “Well, it’s not a mortal sin. I’d know that too. Besides, I can get going when I feel like it. I was just trying to refocus you so we can get the Rubik’s Cube that is _you_ solved.”

“No,” she said, her eyes watering up. “I…Pete picked me cause I fit his profile---strong women who talk too much, you know, like his mother.”

“How very Serial Killer 101, what an utterly unoriginal hack.”

“Thanks?” she said, blinking back at him. “I guess it takes evil to know evil?”

“I’m _not_. I’m…” Michael hesitated for the best way to explain his last few weeks in L.A. “…I hit a bad patch. Fourteen billion years of being the perfect soldier, drone, and judge for Father shouldn’t be wiped out for keeping Sam’s favorite pet in a zoo for a few hours. I am _not_ a murderer, but I’ve judged so many in my time in Heaven. The ‘my mom made me do it’ is a popular excuse.” Michael shook his head. “It _never_ works.”

She brightened at that, despite his harsh tone. “I told him that too…after. We were in the interrogation room, and it’s like ‘dude, I grew up dirt poor in Detroit and was always trying to get three of my brothers out of trouble.’ Who doesn’t have shit in their life, you know?”

“Then that’s something even Celestials can understand. Lopez, trust me, there’s something about you—and I’m _not_ talking about your actual nature or powers or whatever---but there’s something in your personality that makes the First Born, the Angel of Death, and even the Devil like you an awful lot. If all of them can agree on something, and, trust me, Sam and Menny rarely do, then you’re way better and more interesting than that piece of shit Pete deserved.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “Definitely. Like I can tell from all you’ve mentioned. He was a hack and a pathetic sack of weakness. A total weasel. Even if he’d just been a normal mortal with a mommy complex, he wouldn’t have been worthy of you.”

She sat up straighter and stared at him, almost through him with those dark brown eyes of hers. “And you?”  
  


“Huh?”

“What do you think about me?”

“That you’re burning daylight, chica, and we’re going to figure this out. I…I think I can jump start you, but it’s not a pleasant idea.”

“Will it hurt?”

“Not physically,” he admitted, and he looked down at his good hand, studying his nails there as if they were actually interesting. “You’ve felt what I can do so far.”

“The fear thing…I’ve definitely felt anxious near you, sure.”

“I can make it worse, pinpoint it more.” Michael swallowed but didn’t look up again. “If you’re like us…our powers are tied to our emotional states. It’s why I dug so hard at Amenadiel and made him terrified for Chucky’s safety.”

“It’s _Charlie,_ and that was a crappy thing to do.”

  
“Yeah, well, I didn’t make the kid sick, and it’s a small, mortal cold. Amenadiel was going to have to deal with that shit at some point. But, yeah, I saw my opening and I took it.”

He could feel Ella’s eyes on him and finally looked up to face an impressive glare from her.

“How did that work out for you?” she asked. “Was it a good idea, _pendejo_?”

“Well, I’m as weak as any human and tied to you by an invisible ball and chain so, sure, I’ve had better plans, but the point is, Lopez, that I figure if you can do anything other than be resilient to Celestials, then we will find out for sure if I scare you enough. Does that make sense?”

She swallowed hard at his proposal. “I don’t want to think about Pete.”

“I know you don’t, and I won’t try unless you say I can. Besides,” he said, studying her closely. “I don’t think Pete’s what scares you the most.”

“He did almost kill me.” 

“No, I think you’re scared of something deeper than that, something far deeper than even being isolated from Father.”

“Then what?” Ella asked.

He had felt the flickers of something at the edges of Ella’s mind last night, something strongly directed to herself. Michael just hadn’t read enough off her yet to tell exactly what. “Not sure yet,” he answered honestly, and overall, Michael was being straighter with her than he usually was with anyone except for Maze. Then again, for the most part, he’d get further along with being direct than obfuscation. “Would you let me? Probe your fear, I mean?”

Ella swayed in her chair and looked vaguely pale. “It doesn’t physically hurt you said, right?”  
  


“Not usually, no. It won’t be fun…these are your deepest fears, but it should help trigger you, okay? We get to see if you have something active you do, and then I shut it down. I…I’m right here, and I won’t do more than you can handle, okay?”

She nodded and sat up in her gaming chair. “What do I need to do?”

“Nothing,” he admitted, letting his walls down. Michael didn’t want to drop them completely but it would get maximum results if he stopped sealing himself away from her, and if he flat out asked her pointedly, as his twin often asked humans 1:1 about their desires. It would be like an emotional jackhammer to her, but it was fastest.

“I…Ella Lopez, what do you _fear_?”

Her eyes went wide, and she started to shake immediately. And her fear was so all consuming and layered that, as with last night, Michael doubled over to feel all of it. Some part of him, the part that was probably crooked long before his body was, relished it. Ella was a complex one, someone who feared for others because while she might not be _human_ , she was still a good person. Again, Michael sampled that complex, esoteric hint of existential dread, her fears about her place with Father and her suffering, floundering Catholic faith. Then the hit of animalistic terror, the screaming, and he couldn’t breathe for a moment as he felt that dick’s hand around his neck---squeezing tight---and also smell the sickening sweet scent of lilies.

And her fears kept cycling.

Ella had closed her eyes at the onslaught of his powers and was moaning to herself, holding her stomach and half out of it. Small whines managed to escape her throat, and a tiny part of him felt terrible for this, that native revulsion about what even he was and what he exceled at. But her fears were so multilayered.

_So appealing._

Somewhere in the middle of trying to push her to use her power, Michael was just addicted to how her fear felt. It was a torrent he hadn’t experienced in decades, at least.

So rare, like a unique vintage.

But nothing was happening around them, nothing that would hint at her _otherness_ or her powers.

He pushed on, deeper, and there it was. That fear of herself hidden so far under the surface. Flashes of sterile, white walls and a hospital bed with straps, ones that were used to hold her down. Meetings with doctors in small, dim hospital rooms that he wasn’t even sure were real or imagined. Kids in middle school, maybe even early high school, pointing and laughing at her. One ass from the football team putting a white t-shirt over his head and making “boo” noises.

_And what exactly had his idiot sister done?_

But there was still something else, and Michael pressed deeper yet even as Ella’s eyes shot open, and she begged him with barely coherent words to stop.

He found it then, the deepest root of her fear, something akin to a merlot kept sealed for the better part of a century or some rare, big name caviar from Russia that his idiot twin would have bought just because it was Tuesday. Oh yes, so rare to find the deepest heart of what someone feared and _hid_ religiously from even themselves.

Michael could see things from Ella’s point of view, at least the terrifying vision that was making a circuit in her mind. She was back at the precinct before Samael, Amenadiel, him, and Father, but Father wasn’t merciful this time. If this weird jail system He’d worked out could be considered merciful at all.

In Ella’s mind, his father regarded her with anger and pure fury in his gaze. Michael knew that look, had seen it only a few times in even his endless life---with Mom and Sam before they were damned, respectively, and the one time he’d flat out asked Dad why He refused to heal his own wings. But that same ire---or a damn good approximation of it---was aimed toward Ella now.

“You’re corrupted,” Father said, and He snapped his fingers.

Michael watched, not even from Ella’s point of view any longer, but more like an outside fly on the wall to the vision, as Lopez’s body changed and warped, as it grew as monstrous as anything in Sam’s domain or as clawed and fanged and spiked as any abomination in the darkest pantheon. Michael watched as the grasping, biting horror that had just been Ella leapt and tore three of God’s strongest angels apart.

And then---oh then---he was both repelled and intoxicated with the strongest fear he’d felt in almost two thousand years.

He almost would have overdosed on it if the damn plumbing didn’t burst in the sink and a riot of water explode upward like a fountain from the pipes.

Michael blinked and forced that greedy, dark part of himself that all his siblings knew of and _hated_ away and finally broke the connection. It took longer than he wanted after such a session to get his walls back up and at maximum height. As Michael struggled to get everything back in place, loud clangs sounded from his bathroom and hers as well as an indignant squawk.

_What the actual fuck?_

Michael jumped up and, despite better judgment, rushed to Ella’s bathroom where the chicken was flapping madly in a rapidly filling tub. The sink in that room was also an exploded mess, spewing forth water like a geyser. Hating his life, Michael lunged at the chicken and in sheer desperation, grabbed her. The ungrateful bitch squawked again and dug her talons into his left arm. He glared at her but managed to wrestle the chicken to the bed and drop her off there. Margaret was ruffled and pacing furiously across the mattress, but she was at least behind a massive door and not his problem.

Some thanks he got saving the animal from drowning.

Ignoring the blood dripping from his arm, Michael cursed his stupid, useless mortal frailty and hurried back to Ella. She was still rocking herself and moaning, but when he touched her, she had enough presence of mind to push back from him.

“ _No me toques!_ Don’t you dare fucking touch me!”

Michael flinched but recovered quickly. Stepping back, he held up both of his hands so she could see them. “I didn’t touch you to start. I just… _you agreed_.” And his voice sounded exceptionally nasally, even to his own ears.

She hopped to her feet and set her hands on her hips. “You didn’t explain it would be like that. What the fuck was that?!?” As she screamed, the pipes in the kitchen sink groaned again and both of them turned to look and then gape. The water spouting upwards now twisted in the air and was bent like a roller coaster, the edge of the liquid easing closer through space toward Ella. “What is this?”

Michael sighed sharply. “I’m sorry, Lopez. I dug deeper than I meant. I…I got on a roll.” _I liked it_. “But I guess I kick started you anyway.”

She glared back at him as the water sought her out. “I…how are you even an angel? You’re terrifying.”

“Takes one to know one,” he replied, even as he struggled to stand his straightest.

Ella’s head jerked back as if he’d slapped her. “I’m not though. I just…” And as she fumbled for words, a water trail each from his bathroom and from hers, equally as suspended in the air like a living, water tube, snaked forward and honed in on her. “I don’t know how I’m doing this!”

“You’re scared and angry and apparently, chica, you’ve got quite the affinity for water. Congrats!”

“As far as mentors go, Mikey, you’re no Obi Wan.”

“I still don’t know what that means,” he said, but the heat had gone out of his voice as he watched her.

It was _mesmerizing_ , even for someone who had seen as much as he had of the beings that went bump in the night. Each tendril of water came to stop before her, only a few inches from her outstretched right hand. They each stayed in their respective tube but hung, as if waiting for her command.

Ella reached out and touched the tunnel of water to her right and with a sharp poke, she split a bubble of water off from it. The bubble dislodged and floated past him out to the balcony’s doors. It hit the glass eventually, popped open, and then splashed to the ground.

“Holy shit!” Ella exclaimed, her eyes wide.

“Yeah, I was about to get to that and---”

Michael didn’t get to say more because Samael burst through their door and stilled when he took in the sight before him. “What did you do, Mikey?”

“ _We_ ,” Michael started. “figured out at least what Ella does, if not what she is. I would say the whole science experiment stuff is going really well.”

Sam stomped into the room and glared at the three trails of water circling Ella but never quite merging together. He was keeping his distance because, and Michael was sure, his brother’s suit was most certainly silk and cost a ludicrous amount. “There’s a chicken screaming bloody murder in the next room, my flat is flooded, and I just got a call from Patrick down at the bar and _that’s_ exploded too. In fact, every washroom stall and the kitchen and bar at _Lux_ are pouring forth like Mum’s flood. What is going on?”

Ella’s concentration broken then and the water tunnels collapsed, dousing the floor, but on the bright side, all the pipes shuddered and groaned---and Michael swore the building even wobbled at the force of it---and the water stopped pouring everywhere. The scientist’s face was bright red, and she could barely face Samael.

“I’m sorry, Luce-um-ifer. I…it just happened. See, Michael was driving my fear, and I had a lot of it and then kablooey! It was a totally loco mess, but it worked. I mean, I don’t know to repeat it yet but water? Definitely my thing.”

Samael glared at Michael, and his eyes were glowing red. Michael rolled his own eyes and let them go gold. He was still, whatever else he was, Demiurge as well, and Sam didn’t scare him. Both because they were equal yet opposite and because his twin had already stripped him of everything as it was.

His brother advanced on him and would have grabbed Michael by the throat if Ella hadn’t grabbed Sam by the shoulder. The Devil spoke. “What the bloody hell were you thinking? You had no right to use your powers against her. Give me one reason not to drag you 99.5 yards from her and leave you to rot?”

“Lucifer!” Ella shouted, yanking ineffectually on the Devil’s shoulder. “I’m fine.”

“You went Niagra Falls on my building. I can’t assume that’s true.” Sam’s eyes dimmed, and he turned to face his pet. “Miss Lopez, are you quite alright? If he hurt you---”

Ella’s gaze flashed to Michael for a moment, and her complexion was still paler, but she plastered a decent approximation of her usual smile on her face and turned back to Sam. “I’m fine. I mean, I’m really sorry about your pipes. I can’t, uh, cover them but I wish I could.”

  
“I don’t give a toss about the plumbing. I can get that fixed in a week, but I do care if that ghoul tried to harm you.”

“I _asked_ ,” she hedged. “He said it could get me to figure out what I do faster than just blindly trying and, _hermano_ , he wasn’t wrong.”

The Devil finally seemed to relax a little, at least he wasn’t holding himself as stiffly. He eyed Michael again. “My flat’s close enough that you can come up there without Miss Lopez. You will tomorrow, Mikey. Apparently, you’ve yet to understand ground rules.” As cold as Sam was with him, he offered Ella a warm smile, an expression that back when they’d made the universe together, he’d given Michael too, one he’d given until the last days before Rebellion to Azrael. “I’ll get plumbers here tomorrow to help with the mess here. I apologize for such an inconvenience.”

“I did it,” Ella said.

  
“Well, perhaps I should have anticipated some of your…let’s say needs,” he said, opening his arms and letting Ella hug him again.

Interesting too. Except with Rae Rae, Sam had never been a hugger.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t…it just came out!” Ella stammered.

Over her shoulder, Sam glared at him. “I can see that. It’s genuinely impressive. I…why don’t you get into dry clothes, Miss Lopez? At least some rest is in order. I can have my staff come clean this or---”

Ella pulled away and slapped his shoulder. “I got it. Me and Mikey can do it.”

Sam beamed at that idea. “I’ll have towels brought up. I do like that idea quite a bit. Put my arsehole of a brother to work, Miss Lopez. He’s earned it.” Samael turned on his heels then but still offered him one, final, red-eyed glare. “Tomorrow at my flat, _Brother_. I’ll see you at 3 p.m. You don’t want to be late.”

And like always, Samael paraded out of the room like the King he said he didn’t want to be, even though he loved to act like it.

**

“See! This is better,” Ella said.

After the afternoon of cleaning up, soothing a pissed off chicken, and calling in for pizza---Michael loved anchovies, so Ella insisted he have a large of his own---they were settled at completely opposite ends of the sofa. She was back in her pajamas, thankfully long pants that had cartoon characters Michael couldn’t place on them. He had found a pair of slightly too short sweatpants (Sam had _definitely_ done that on purpose) and an old t-shirt from some place called _Sol de Javier_. It was dry and free, so Michael could hardly complain.

Would be nice if his ankles weren’t cold, and that was odd.

Mortal frailty was going to get old quickly.

Case in point, as Ella put on that _Galaxy Wars_ thing she’d been going on about, she’d also pulled out the first aid kit. Currently, she was biting her lower lip and considering him. Every so often, she started to edge toward the middle of the sofa but would stop before really committing forward.

“I’ve got all my walls up as high as I can. You’ll feel a bit of anxiety around me. I can’t control that, I’m sorry, but I won’t use my powers on you like that again. I was trying to get you to use yours.”

“It was more than that. Stuff started exploding by the time I was remembering high school. You dug even deeper because you wanted to, asshole.”

Michael swallowed and looked down at the floor. “I got carried away.”

“Did you plan to all along?”

“No, but it can be…addictive what I do.”

“It’s creepy and a violation.”

“It is, but I am what I am, and I have long since given up making excuses for it. My siblings never cared to hear it. As if they had a say in what gifts they were saddled with either. I _never_ asked for this; I just live with it.” He laughed but there was no humor in it. “If the luck of the draw had been different, one of them would have been the Angel of Fear. Maybe even Samael, would have fit the Devil better anyway.”

“Don’t do it again.”

He nodded. “I’ll try not to. It’s hard. Your fears are so complex and interesting. I rarely get ones so deep.”

“You say that like it’s a turn on.”

Michael glared at her. “It’s not.” _Exactly._ “it’s just… _appealing_. It would be a lie to say it wasn’t.”

“I thought you loved lying.”

“I do, but we’re still tethered, and if I lie and piss you off, it’ll just prolong our mutual agony.” He inched closer to her but kept his hands up still, as if what he could do wasn’t completely mental. “I am sorry, Lopez. It got us what we needed, but yeah, I took too much from you.”

She swallowed hard and scooted to meet him in the middle cushion. Pulling out a bottle from the first aid case, Ella splashed the vaguely yellowed contents on some gauze and eyed him. “I have to clean that.”

“I’m fine. Your chicken was annoying, but I’ll live.”

“You can get an infection, right?”

He rolled his eyes. “For now, yeah.”

She didn’t wait but shoved the gauze on his scored up left forearm. He hissed and jumped away from her. Since the sinks were turned off by now, the only sign of Ella’s annoyance besides her glare was the way her half-finished bottle of _Dasani_ rumbled and bubbled.

“Oh, um,” she stuttered, even as she reached for his arm again. “Didn’t mean to do that.”

“Believe me, Lopez, I understand” he said, letting her have his forearm but still hissing as the cleaner touched skin. “Dear Dad, what is this stuff? Is it acid?”

“It’s Iodine, angel. You’re gonna be fine.”

“I don’t know if I believe that.”

“You’re lucky I don’t have a pet cat. Cat Scratch Fever? It’s a thing.”

Michael blinked at her as if she’d started ranting in Lilim. What even? _Seriously, Dad, way to fuck up designing things_. “I don’t want to know.”

“You don’t,” she said, even as cartoony laser noises sounded in the background and some giant dog thing was punching men decked out in white plastic. He was not going to understand or like _Galaxy Wars_ either; Michael could tell. “This is stuff you have to think about while you’re being punished.”

“Like you care.”

“Well, it would suck being tied to a dead angel, for one. For another, I do care.”

  
Michael snorted and watched as she grabbed fresh gauze and a roll of white tape. “No one cares about me.”

“Well, I do, but I’m still totally pissed about the digging too far in my fears. That sucked. Doesn’t mean you aren’t helping me in a really shitty time. I…last night was good, and you saved Margaret from drowning. I appreciate that.”

“Glad I’ve earned you and your chicken’s approval, chica,” he said, finding himself smiling genuinely---if crookedly---at her handiwork as she wrapped his arm.

Ella’s cheeks seemed a bit flushed as she talked, “Try uh not to get it wet for a day or two and then I’ll help you rewrap it, and you can take like showers with it not under the water after. Uh, since we probably won’t have a shower till then, you’re good to go!” She sighed and curled up on her end of the sofa, pulling her knees to her chest.

She really was a tiny thing, wasn’t she?

Ella tended to bowl him over all the time, so he forgot that too.

“It was a lot, huh?” She finally asked, barely gazing at him as she did.

“Well,” he said, leaning back where she’d patched him up. “You don’t know how to control whatever this is yet. Like I said, I know a lot about both having to keep tight reins on your powers and what happens when you can’t.” He sighed. “Like with me this afternoon. I…look, I really was trying to help at first, and then I fucked up. But between us…about what you’re really scared of?”  
  


“You didn’t have a right to see that,” she snapped, even as her voice wavered.

“No, I really didn’t, but I did so here we are. You get why I was offering to stay as far from you as I could now, why in the Silver City maybe only Rae Rae, and, well, before, Uriel gave me the time of day. No one wants to be near the Angel of Fear. Who wants to be low key anxious all the time or worse?”

“Good point.”

“But I saw how scared you are of yourself. I wouldn’t be. You’re not a monster, Lopez, and you’re not…Dad’s confused about what you actually are, not mad at you. He doesn’t get thrown a curveball very often. That’s all. No one who has as many nauseatingly cute t-shirts as you do or as many nerd hobbies is exactly Lady Shiva, right?”

“You think my t-shirts are cute?”

He rolled his eyes. “In a very dorky way.” Michael glanced at her current one, it had a different set of cartoon characters on it that he had no hope of knowing. “Uh, the little ones with the big eyes and the bunny ears and what is that even?”

“My pants are _Fruits Basket_ and my shirt is some chibi _Sailor Moon_ of Serena, and you have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

He eyed the TV with apprehension. If Michael said no, then _Galaxy Wars_ would be followed by endless cartoons. “If I said ‘maybe,’ can you let me off the _chubi_ hook?”

“Chibi,” she corrected like it mattered. “And it’s really all Anime and sure. We’ll stick George Lucas. We have so much more to go, and I think you’ll like Yoda. Maybe. Well, _everyone_ likes Yoda and Baby Yoda even more!”

She was decidedly adorable when she got excited, and Michael stilled when he felt that tensing of his shoulders and the straining of his wings---especially his more movable left one---under the surface. He was already growing appallingly hard, and how did human men even concentrate? Both his brothers were idiots so suffering this same injustice on this plane probably didn’t affect them much, but hard-ons?

So distracting.

Annoying.

Damn if he just didn’t want…

But he forced _any_ of those thoughts away and focused back on Castiel’s terrible caterwauling. That seemed to do the best to calm his wings and his cock.

“Maybe I will.” He reached out and stroked a piece of her hair back from her face, frowning a little. It looked red almost under the light from the TV screen and had it before? Michael decided to ignore that and just finish saying his peace so he could escape before his wings did. Traitorous things. “Chica… _Ella_ , you’re not a monster. Trust me. I spent billions of years fighting them for Dad. I’ve met almost _all_ of them and fought Old Ones without even names back into the dark. You’re a good---”

“Whatever I am?”

“We’ll just say you’re a _chicken_ too.”

She stared at him with murder in her eyes, and her water bottle shook a little. “I’m not!”

“Oh, you sing Margaret’s praises. You, Lopez, are the most impressive chicken I’ve ever met, and you’re not that scary.” He sighed and stood, missing the contact with her instantly. “Trust me, I know from terrifying, and you, chica, can’t hold a candle to me.”

“I…it was bad today.”

“Yeah, but it got results. Look, I’ve had to clean a whole apartment, and I might still get septic shock from a chicken attack---”

“You will not, you baby.”

Michael feigned a cough. “I’m mortal now, Lopez. You don’t know. Anyway, finish your uh Wars movie. I’ll see you tomorrow, and we’ll try and keep figuring you out but, yeah, Ella, you’re a great chicken and you’re not…you’re _not_ a monster.”

“Pete said I had darkness.”

“Pete was a tool,” Michael snapped. “And he wouldn’t have lasted five seconds with me. You were one of the strongest people I’ve ever probed, and I’ve brought literal gods--- _small g_ \---to their knees. Be proud of that.”

She sat up straighter and sniffled. “Goodnight, Michael.”

“Smell ya later, Lopez.”

He eased back into his room and made sure the door was locked behind him. His wings popped out shortly, after and his erection was tenting up his sweatpants in a pathetically comical way.

Fuck, he needed relief.

Huffing to himself, Michael trudged through the mess of the bathroom---dried out but still covered in towels---and yanked out some lotion and the precious few still-dry hand towels. Well, he was quite the mess but at least Lopez wouldn’t barge in on him. Thank the universe for the small favor that she couldn’t pick locks like his twin. Now that would be a horrifying power. However, he had the privacy, such as it was, and the need and, well, when on Earth do as mortals and his useless brothers did.

For the first time in his life, Michael the Sword of God, the Defender of the Faith, and the Great Judge was going to take matters into his own hands.

How hard could it be?


	4. Suspicions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which taking things, ahem, in hand doesn't work out so well for Michael. And, eventually, Rae Rae confesses some big secrets about the night of Ella's car accident as a kid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter earns the M rating, heads up.

**Suspicions**

  1. **Suspicions**



Michael’s desperation for relief was superseding higher thought. Even though it was a struggle to get comfortable on his bed with his bedraggled wings out, and he just couldn’t get them back in now, and he was trying not to think too much on that, Michael managed to get to the bed and lie down. Part of him, even after all the crap he’d pulled lately, was appalled with what he was about to try. Human desires were beneath the Host. They were for hypocrites like Amenadiel and flat out betrayers like Samael. The fact that he was even feeling the temptations of the flesh was part of Father’s games, probably, all brought on not just by being stuck on this plane but also because he was essentially mortal.

Frail like common humans.

Trapped by carnal desires like them.

And yet, after two days of close proximity to Ella Lopez, Michael didn’t care if he was about to slum it like a human would. Like Sam always did. He just needed to feel better. And his erection was straining high and towards his belly, and all his thoughts were about how much he just _needed_.

Michael set the lotion on the bedside table. He’d again been the orgy police enough times over the millennia to know that was helpful or to assume as much. Also, Michael decided that as amped up as he was, he couldn’t risk shouting or making noise. The apartment space was ample and, true, they were six stories down from Sam’s ostentatious loft, but somehow, if Michael made _any_ noise at all, he knew that his twin would hear. _Would know_. And then Michael would be eviscerated. So, he took one of the few precious, actually dry hand towels and slipped it in his mouth and clamped onto it.

He’d bite down no matter what happened. Michael wouldn’t scream.

  
He would not let Lopez or Sam know.

Taking a deep breath through his nose and feeling his wings shudder despite himself, he reached with his left hand---no way his right would be of any help here, considering the fumbling, grasping mess it was at the _best_ of times---and coated his palm with an ample supply of the lotion. There was probably something better for this, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and it was his first time and…anything was probably better than friction without it on a now vulnerable member.

Breathing sharply again, Michael eased his hand down and just ghosted fingers over the head of his cock. A sensation as sharp as lightening but infinitely more pleasurable (and he’d know, long story and trouble with Norse gods always was the worst) shot through him. Michael threw his head back against the wall and bit the rag down for all he was worth. If he hadn’t, he’d have screamed already.

Forget about Ella or Samael knowing, all the block would have with the way he felt.

_So this is why Amenadiel never came back…_

Michael reached down again and rubbed his thumb delicately over the head of his dick, the sensitivity of it now was exquisite and like nothing he’d felt before in his long life. Michael circled the head again and then again, making a languid circle over it. He stilled for a moment when something spurted forth, just a bit, dripping from the tip. His eyes widened, and it was shocking to see what he assumed was seed issuing forth. It made some sense, maybe, perhaps self-actualization on the mortal plane. Maybe even explain how Chucky existed.

Honestly, Michael had assumed since angels couldn’t…that the incompatibility hinted that they didn’t have seed at all.

Not that he was complaining. With thumb and forefinger, he rubbed more briskly at the head of his cock, mixing the lotion on his hand with the beginnings of seed, both of which felt so sensual against his skin.

Michael let out a slow breath, and his wings fluttered behind him, especially his left one. His right tried, but it was hampered as always by its limitations. Still both wings felt as sensitized and desperate for touch as his dick. Nothing to be done about that though. No one to touch them, and he just… _had_ wings always been like this? How would he have known that at all? All the Host were siblings and preening above had been bonding, sure, but familial.

What would it feel like, especially now, for a human to touch his wings, straighten his feathers…comb deft fingernails against the tender skin there?

Michael’s hips bucked almost on their own accord, and he closed his eyes, even as instinct guided him to wrap his good hand loosely around his shaft. His balls were tightening, and that must be all that seed he never realized angels had…that had never been an issue before…and he desperately wished he could stroke his balls as well.

He tried for a moment, desperate to will his right arm and hand to do much of anything, but, as they always did this late at night and after exertion, they laid uselessly at his side. Michael choked back the anger that was almost chasing away his lust, despite the strokes over his length. Of course, even now---maybe _especially_ now---having a weak right side was a curse. _And fuck you too, Samael._ Maybe Hell was everything it was supposed to be, everything he’d heard Rae Rae whisper about.

Michael hoped so because if he was damned in his own way, then his asshole twin should be quite literally too.

His cock grew more flaccid, and Michael closed his eyes again and forced himself not to focus on his anger, not to let that wrath destroy his pleasure completely. Instead, he picked up his pace, each stroke ending with a lingering touch to the underside of his head as his thoughts turned instead to Lopez.

This was so fucked up and wrong and not at all where any of his plans had been going even yesterday, but he wanted…

_He just wanted._

Ella Lopez in her appallingly and tauntingly short shorts. Ella with her hair that was so long, cascading over her shoulders when she’d finally given all pretense up and let it loose while they’d worked on fixing her bedroom that evening. Ella with her face flushed and her brown doe eyes wide open, with that weirdest hint of red highlights to her hair tonight that had to come from the flickering lights of the television.

Ella, whose touch was so soft, who had felt all his powers could bring, and still bandaged his wound. She who still let her fingers, soft and lithe, graze over his forearm.

He bucked again as he balls grew taught. The need to go faster surged through him, and he was moving his hand at a frenetic pace, and it still wasn’t quite enough. Michael’s clamped his eyelids tighter even as the mattress squeaked beneath him, even as he tried so hard to will it _not_ to be his hand around his cock but Ella’s.

Her expert fingers that could do a hundred lab techniques, her soft skin that had only been on his for a few moments but felt so right there, her palm cupping him. He arched off the bed and was aware vaguely that he was listing a bit to one side, and he was sure it was quite the pathetic floor show. The injured angel, the _lesser one_ , and his rutting like a common barnyard animal.

And maybe he and Margaret the chicken had some things in common after all, at least the baser animal needs he’d always felt he was above before.

But fuck it.

Michael breathed in again even as his hand moved at a pace so fast that he almost thought his angelic powers were still in him---he was that frantic. Heat was pooling through his body, and he felt so heavy with seed and everything else.

_Fuck, Ella._

Ella and the way that tank top this morning had been too low. Now Michael wished it had gone lower still. The teasing hint of light brown curves and---

He came then, and it felt like when he’d help make the stars. Not the crafting part as much as watching what he’d set out be reborn and burn blazing bright to life. That spark now deep in him as he spluttered all over his hand. Michael bit down so hard on the hand towel in his mouth that he thought he’d tear it.

And then his wings finally folded back away.

Michael flopped fully back on the mattress and spit out the towel. Fumbling tiredly---whatever energy he’d had after cleaning the apartment already had him spent---he reached for another towel and cleaned himself barely. It was half-hearted at best, and he was so boneless and tired and satiated. He could lay like this forever.

Or he could have, if not for a strange clicking noise.

  
He was so tired that Michael at first thought he’d imagined it. But it was there, the click and clack of something. He realized too late it was a locking mechanism when the door burst open, and he shot up in bed, still listing to the left as he did it, and slipping back a few times before having enough strength to work himself to a sitting position.

Michael blinked, wide eyed and confused, at Ella standing before him.

“I…oh I was,” she sputtered, and something was wrong about her words, something sibilant and lispy that had not been there before.

“Lopez? Are you fucking kidding me!” Michael snapped, fumbling for anything to cover himself before just throwing one of the pillows awkwardly on his lap. “What do you think a lock is for?”

His annoyance was at peak levels, like Vesuvius had nothing on him at this point. It was clear he’d wanted privacy and, gazing at the hair pins in her hands, Ella hadn’t given a shit about that. Now, Michael wanted to drop his walls and scare her out of spite. She’d picked the lock. He hadn’t even had to worry about her and powers; the crafty scientist and apparently someone with criminal knowledge had done it the old-fashioned way.

“I needed…” Ella started and then floundered. Her gaze was darting around the room, taking in the obvious, and that just pissed Michael off more. At least until she looked back at him, and something was wrong with her eyes too. He couldn’t place it, but they were shinier than they should have been, easier to see in the dark. “I’m sorry, this was so stupid,” she said, the weird lisp more apparent.

And damn his ability; he felt in now---her fear, her desperation, and that stark horror at herself.

_What had even happened in a half hour_?

“Lopez… _Ella_ ,” he said, struggling to his feet and wrapping his sheet around his waist. “Are you okay?”

She shook her head and turned fast. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

Ella was gone then, as fast as he’d ever seen a human move, and Michael cursed under his breath as the door slammed shut behind her. There had been something off between her fear and her eyes, and he just needed…

Grumbling to himself, he grabbed a pair of sweatpants from his closet and that stupid _Sol de Javier_ t-shirt. He hobbled to the bathroom and cleaned his hands as best he could, despite no working sink.

Taking few calming breaths, Michael hurried to the living room and expected to find it empty. Instead, he found Ella had opened up the balcony doors and was pacing back and forth on the veranda. Well, at least he didn’t have to deal with that damn chicken since Ella wasn’t in her wing of the apartment. Reminding himself that he needed to solve their problems and not run her off, he took in deep, calming breaths. Reaching out carefully to sense her level of fear, Michael forced himself to be less grouchy.

She was scared. Not as upset as she’d been when he’d prodded, but it was there and acrid when it hadn’t been there with _Galaxy Wars_ and all those puppets onscreen she liked.

Michael ambled slowly to the balcony and knocked on the glass before slipping out to see her. “Hey, chica, can we talk? I didn’t like the way we left that.” His walls were mostly back up, but she was scared enough to be easy to read.

Hell, even a human could see her distress in the way she paced and the quick litany of Spanish coming from her lips. He’d been bumming around Los Angeles for a few weeks, and he didn’t speak much Spanish, not really, but he had heard bits here and there. He could put enough together that even at a rapid-fire Ella pace, Michael could make out “Madre” and “Maria” and figure it was literally a prayer.

He forced himself to be as locked up tight as he could be; Michael knew he’d still be causing background anxiety, but he didn’t want to add to her fear…well, any more than he already had.

He darted his hand out and gripped her shoulder. Ella stilled and turned to him, and his thoughts weren’t wrong earlier. Her eyes were _different_ ; they were a deep viridian with narrow slits and seemed to reflect in the night like a cat’s.

_Or a snake’s_.

And he didn’t flinch, but he wished desperately Father had dumped this burden on Samael instead. Wasn’t his brother the Great Serpent, anyway?

“Ella, what happened?” he asked, forcing his voice to be level and calm.

That wasn’t too hard. He was no longer angry at her, just confused.

She blinked at him, and tears were still streaming down her cheeks. “Never mind. I was so stupid.”

And, oh Father, what the Hell was Michael supposed to even do with this? Her tongue flicked out at the end of her sentence and was forked and reed thin. _And that would explain the lisp…_

Since it wasn’t a lisp at all; it was fucking _hissing_.

Yeah, he was so the wrong angel to deal with this. He _always_ said the wrong thing.

“I’m not going back to my room, Ella, so we can talk out here or on the couch. Which do you prefer?”

“You want to talk?” she yipped, stepping back from him. “I messed up so badly. I fell asleep on the couch after you left, and it must not have been long but I woke up and I dunno…it was too bright and it _smelled_ weird and I just…I went to my room to get changed for bed and I---” she trailed off then and gestured at her face. “I sssaw. I didn’t know what to do!”

“So, you came to get me, and you picked the lock?” he offered.

“I didn’t know!” she hiccupped. Ella turned and leaned against the balcony, trying to avoid him clearly. “I’m so embarrassed.”

Michael rolled his eyes skyward. His father owed him for such a weird babysitting duty; punishments be damned. “I thought that was going to be my line, Lopez.”

“You should go,” she said, her voice hoarse now from her crying. She’d let her hair fall like a curtain over her face, and Michael sighed again. They’d been doing so well. “It’s totally messed up. I wish I could say I didn’t see _más too más_ , but I did. I…I guess I didn’t think angels would---”

Despite wishing to be anywhere else, even in Sam’s penthouse, Michael walked forward and leaned on the banister next to her. “Let’s forget that happened. I’m game to do it if you are.”

“I violated your privacy,” she said, although the soft _c_ in “privacy” stretched out so long on her tongue that Michael had to fight the urge to chuckle a little at it. Damn if she wasn’t endearing to him even this way and with her hisses. Clearly, Michael had been on Earth too long, had too much in his head. These were not feelings he was used to, at all. “I’m so sorry,” she added, interrupting his thoughts.  
  


Reaching out, he patted her shoulder. “You were scared…Damn it, Lopez, I can feel it even with all my walls up. A human would know. You’re terrified, and if that had just happened to me, I’d be freaked out too.”

“Angels can be scared?” she asked.

“I can be many things,” he replied. “I wasn’t often on the battlefield. I…once I had a close call with Fenris, and then with the Rebellion but more because I didn’t want to fight my siblings, you know?”

That did it. Ella was a scientist at heart, and the mention of the Norse gods had piqued her curiosity. She turned to him and those glittering, green eyes were staring back at him. They were oddly beautiful in their own way; they just weren’t _hers_. Lopez’s usual eyes were so soft and kind, told you everything about her with a glance. Perhaps it was more accurate to say these serpentine ones reflected the power he’d felt this afternoon, that had rocked the whole building, as well as the shrewd intelligence of the scientist she was.

Another facet.

Perhaps like when his wings were out and when they were not and then passing amongst humans was simple.

Sighing, Michael reached out his hand and stroked her cheek. “We’ll figure this out.”

“Will we? I mean, you sure, dude? Cause so far I ruined a building’s plumbing---”

“Sam literally has more money than God. He’ll have it fixed in a week at most, probably faster if he calls in favors too,” Michael replied. “But we know you do water things and that, uh…” He trailed off, not sure of how to explain her changes.

_Father, not that You know or answer, but will this change back_?

They’d all deal with it either way. He could tell as fierce as they were, that Linda Martin and Sam’s miracle wouldn’t abandon Ella for her differences, any more than they’d necessarily rejected Maze for being a demon. Espinoza was a toss up, but he seemed more or less not a complete gibbering mess now that he knew Satan was real. Honestly, it had been a 50-50 chance showing the idiot his brother’s face at all. Michael hadn’t been sure Daniel Espinoza wouldn’t go insane then. But Espinoza was functional and probably wouldn’t turn on Lopez either, no matter how this all shook out.

But they’d deal.

It was a bigger question on if _Ella_ could, and her fear was so powerful that it appealed in no way to him. A rarity. It just made his stomach churn and roil now.

“That I’m a snake?” she hissed, and the tongue poking out made her point both so vivid and almost made him want to laugh. 

A nervous chuckle, he could feel that much, and he was still the Angel of Fear. He wasn’t going to let the temptation for hysteria overwhelm him or her own spiraling panic do that either.

He pulled her tight to his chest and hugged her. She squirmed against him but finally gave up and started to cry, great sobs heaving against his chest until she grew tired and sagged into his good arm.

“Shh, Ella, I…it’s not okay, but we’ll keep working at this, alright? Even if you didn’t have Hell’s best torturer, Satan, the First Born, and a bunch of annoyingly persistent humans in your corner…well, we have each other.”

“You could go close to a hundred yards away if you wanted.” She mumbled half-coherently against his chest.

He chuckled. “99.9, actually,” Michael corrected. “I wouldn’t do that. Look, we have a deal. I figure this out for you---figure out what you are---and then we’ll run with it.”

“Then you get free?” she hiccupped again, leaning back and regarding her with those green, ophidian eyes. It was haunting, sure, but this was his lot in life, and he’d seen more over his billions of years than even this. “Get the cord snapped, and that’s why you’re doing this.”

“I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t a big incentive, chica.”  
  


“But you do lie.”

He quirked his head at her and studied her, the delicate heart shape of her face, her dark hair, and the glittering of her new eyes. “I don’t lie to you.”

She seemed like herself for the first time since she’d picked his lock. “Sure, dude. You’re a font of total honesty.”

Michael shook his head and then set his forehead against hers. “I mean it. That’s the deal, right? I don’t have to keep them, I know, and I’m hardly Sam, but that’s the deal I’m offering cause I feel like it. Just cause I lie and mislead and welch on things, doesn’t mean I can’t do the opposite when it serves my purposes. I just have to have the motivation.”

“And I motivate you?”

“Yeah, you do, chica. But I promise you this, with you I won’t lie or mislead or blow smoke up your ass. I’m going to help you pinpoint exactly what is going on with you, and I’m not tearing out of town the second Dad cuts the cord, okay? Because I am worried about you, and it has some to do with you and not just cause it’s my ticket out of L.A. Can you get that? That it can be both?”

Ella blinked at him and her eyes teared up again. Somehow. Damn if he knew the mechanics of it. “It never has been before. God, Pete was right and---”

“He wasn’t,” Michael said, hugging her again, and it was a record for him in all his life, and that was what she did to him. “Lopez, we’ll get this figured out. I’ll get Azrael here, okay? She met you first, maybe she noticed things. She travels more with Death and the Endless. She sees crap on a daily basis that we don’t usually in the Silver City. Besides, I have a feeling you want to talk to her.”

“You mean chew her out for the ‘I’m just a ghost’ thing, uh yeah.” She hissed and then stepped back from him, shoving her hands over her mouth.

Michael offered her a small, sideways smile. “You’re amazing, Lopez. I…trust me. I’m just a beat up soldier and that’s the absolute _best_ that could be said about me. I’ll let you know when you match Fenris or other weird pantheon bullshit I’ve dealt with. You don’t right now.”

“But I’m ugly and---”

“And I definitely know from that. Remind me to tell you more about the Lilim some time. Maze is hot in both forms, but she has some real ugly sisters. Learned that the hard way, chica.” He winked at her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “It’s late, and we’re both fried. Look, we’ll go back to the sofa watch that _Galaxy Wars_ crap you like---”

“It’s _Star Wars_ , totally different.”

“Okay, whatever, and we’ll worry about you tomorrow,” he said. “I’m here, and you’re safe, and you’re not…” He eased her back into the living room. “…trust me, my siblings have made it quite clear what an eyesore I am, how hideous now because of my injuries. I _know_ from ugly.”

“Mike!”

He helped her get her seat on the sofa before grabbing the blankets and the remote and then easing under her. “Truth is truth. Dear Father, don’t get Remiel started on everything _wrong_ with me. She’ll talk your ear off half a day. I just…” he looked at her again and stroked her cheek. “Your eyes are really something right now, Lopez.”

“And you lie and…”

“Not tonight and not with you,” he said, cueing up the movie, and more than grateful when within the hour a soft hissing noise let him know that she’d fallen deep asleep.

**

He woke to Ella sitting at the kitchen counter and digging heartily into all the sausage and bacon that Samael had dropped off. Michael blinked blearily up at her and noticed that her eyes were their normal brown, and she was as cheery as she usually was, as if last night hadn’t happened at all. Good, maybe she’d forget that she’d walked in on him and his first time masturbating too.

The universe could have mercy on him just once, couldn’t it?

“Hey, what time is it?” he asked, yawning.

Her eyes grew wide with excitement. “You yawn too. That’s cool.”  
  


“Are you going to keep a score card?”

“Maybe! This is pretty cool. I mean half of it is horrifying but I know angels. This is…it’s just a lot… and I still have so many heaven questions. I mean, I could maybe make up a survey and compare things between you and Amenadiel and Rae Rae and Luce.”

“He’s _not_ an angel, chica.”

“Wings!” she said, as if that was all that was needed.

Then again, considering how little his siblings thought of him, perhaps it was the quintessential hallmark of their kind after all.

“Margaret has wings, and she’s a barnyard animal. Samael is infinitely more complicated.” Michael snorted. “When isn’t he?”

“Why do you call him ‘Samael?’”

“Do you know the naming conventions of the angels? Why it all ends in ‘el?’ It dates back to the Hebrew and refers to how we are all literally ‘of God,’ and Father’s children. Samael doesn’t like the name because he left. Besides, Mother always called him Lucifer, her _Lightbringer_ , since he lit the heavens and made the stars. He had such pride in that.”  
  


She nodded and shoved a ridiculous amount of bacon into her mouth at one time. That probably wasn’t but so normal for a woman as small as she was. Michael added that to his pile of differences he was tallying up about Lopez as their experiments with her powers wore on. “Yeah, the pride part I heard about a lot at Catechism. I…what are you?”

“Huh?”

“The ‘of God.’ What are you?”

Michael shrugged. “Gabriel is Father’s strength, and Amenadiel is His fist. Once, Sam was His poison.”

“Yeah, I can see why Lucifer hates that.”

“I’m just ‘who is like God.’ It’s a reminder that Father is irreplaceable, and no one can dare compare to him.”

Ella quirked her head at him and frowned. “But you’re not a noun.”

“Huh?”

“You’re not the poison or what’s Rae Rae?”

“The help of God,” he replied, knowing easily the monikers for all his siblings. He’d kept track of the Legion forever of course. “So?”

“Your father named you by implying you’d never measure up to Him at all. That’s…you’re a comparison.”

Michael shrugged and shuffled to the sink. “I am always defined by others. I’m half the Demiurge and made the universe with Sam. I’m defined since the Fall by _not_ being the twin who Rebelled. It makes sense too that I’m defined by Dad and the reminder that I will _never_ equal Him.”

“So, if Lucifer can make the stars…”

“I doubt he can now. Not since he’s been damned, but I’m honestly not sure.”

“What do you do? Like to make the universe, and that’s such a weird sentence.”

He put some melon on to a plate and took a halfhearted bite. “Do you like it?”

She wrinkled her nose up and with her dark brown eyes reminded him of a bunny. It was cute, and he needed to _stop_ having idiot thoughts like that. “Like what?”

“The universe? I mean, Dad gave us the big plans, and Sam was always more creative than I was, probably why he got to be the Will, but I came up with oceans. You like those right?”

She blinked. Then she blinked again. Michael gulped and waved a hand in front of her face. _Shit I broke this one_.

“What?” she squeaked. “You just went off book and made an ocean?”

“Suggested it? I’m Creation. I can make matter but it’s formless till Samael gives it shape. So, I could give ideas, the few I had, but I couldn’t…Creation without Will isn’t very useful. So, again, I’m defined by others, even now.” He chewed his melon thoughtfully. Damn it if Sam didn’t buy the best, the peacock. “Ooh, raccoons! Do you like them? That was me too.”

Ella chuckled and punched his shoulder playfully. It stung a little, and Michael wasn’t sure if that was because he was mortal and she’d grown up with four brothers to rough house with or because she was different and growing in strength even now.

“Dude, I love those guys. Ooh, we have to do _Guardians of the Galaxy_ too. Rocket’s hysterical.”  
  


“And he’s a raccoon puppet?”

“CGI, Mikey.”

He shook his head and ate in silence for a while, trying not to be too obvious as he let his eyes roam over her. She was still in her very covering cartoon pajamas but alluring even then. The smile now returned to her face made her younger. Lighter.

_Huh, now that’s a thought…_

“How old are you?” he blurted.

Her eyes flashed for the tiniest of moments and they were snake-like again. It didn’t last, and that was a good thing. They needed to work through all of this while Ella wasn’t panicking, and her differences early this morning had her tailspinning hard.

“You know, you don’t ask humans that.”

He shrugged. “I’ll go first then. The Big Bang was pretty literal, but we weren’t the first like Ameandiel so there’s maybe a few years in there that get lost in time. But I’m around 14 billion years old.”

She gaped at him. “Holy shit!”

“I told you I made the universe. Let there be light from Sammy. How is that a surprise?”

She shrugged. “It’s not, but Luce is the ultimate man child. I just can’t see him…how did he not get some maturity by living for billions of years?”

“I ask myself that a lot. Trust me, commanding him in a legion was no fun even before he rebelled. Not exactly a model soldier.”  
  


“Not a model consultant anyway,” she said, winking at him. “It’s what I liked about him. Dude’s fun, but huh, 14 billion? Talk about a Peter Pan complex.”

“I always thought so,” Michael griped. “Samael will never learn responsibility, and I think my siblings expecting any different at this point is insanity.”

“He’s not as bad as you think. He’s solved so many cases!”

Michael gestured to his scar and then to his drooping right side. “He’s ruined my family and me. He’s a selfish, spoiled, preening brat, and he _always_ will be. I…sorry, that derailed a lot. I just…we’re old, so no matter your age, you can’t be 14 billion.”

She wriggled her nose again, and his left shoulder twitched a little. Dear Father, he was apparently as easy and dopey around Ella as Sam was around his miracle. Just who’d have thought? “Okay, fine. If you must know---”

“I was curious, and it’s hard to tell human ages apart. There’s Chucky’s age, humans in general, and then about to be taken by Rae Rae cause they’re wrinkly. So, I know you’re in the middle. That’s the best I got.”

She chuckled at that and tossed a grape at him that he managed to deflect with his good hand. “Dude, you know so little about humans. Seriously, bone up some!”

He squirmed at her turn of phrase and once again recalled how off key Castiel always sang. “Um, your age, Lopez?”

“Tactful as ever, dude. I’m forty-one.”

He blinked. “Is that old for humans or young?”

“Wow, you really don’t spend but so much time here, huh?”

“Nope, not like Menny or Sam.”

“It’s in between,” she blanched at that. “Ugh, middle age, dude.”

“You don’t look it.”

“Sure, thanks, but that’s so not true.”

He stood up straighter and went to the fridge for some bottled water since the sink was currently _not_ an option. “Well, look on the bright side, maybe whatever you are isn’t mortal. You could be barely getting started.”

And there he’d gone and really stuck his damn foot in it. Ella’s fear spiked so high that Michael almost dropped his drink.

“I… _mierda_ …I never thought about that. That would be weird. What if I’m still alive in like a hundred years?”

“Yes, truly then Lopez, you’ll be ancient.”

“ _Socio,_ that’s old!”

“Sure, right. Not even a drop in the bucket for immortals, trust me,” he said, shutting the fridge and returning to his spot across from her at the sink. “We have to talk about last night and how chipper you are this morning.”

“I woke up, and the eyes and tongue were gone. I feel like a ton better! Not even chilly like I was last night either. See, fine.”

“Your eyes flashed this morning when you were mad at me,” he pointed out. “Also, you know whatever happened is gonna come back.” Michael shrugged and let his eyes glow gold with the power of the Demiurge. “I’m not judging. Who doesn’t have some extra for their eyes? Sam does too, believe me. But you’re acting like this is nothing, and I figure denial’s not your friend right now, Lopez.”

“But what if I _do_ get better or am or something!” she said, throwing up her hands.

Michael regarded the couple pounds of bacon, ham, and sausage on her plate. “I’m thinking it’s probably the opposite. Look, most _others_ can pass as human. It’s advantageous. Even if you’re not…even if the eyes come back and the tongue and all of it, well, I’m sure you can glamour just like Sam and Maze. Or, reverse perspective, this is mostly you and the extra is the glamour you set off on accident. It’s kind of how you feel about it.”

“I’m not some weird water snake thing!”

“You have stuff you do, and I think maybe I did too good a job tapping into your fear because I feel it’s gonna ramp up. I…you just need to be aware that I figure the eyes and tongue are just the beginning and maybe more will come out, Ella. You can’t just go ‘oh a blip’ and sit here, eating a metric ton of red meat and pretend you’re just gonna be regular science geek next week. That won’t help you.”

“I just…maybe?” she coughed.

He shook his head. “Look, Sam will want to see me this afternoon to mostly ream me out. But let me call Rae Rae. She met you first, and maybe she knows more than we do.” He quirked his head at her. “How in Dad’s name did you even meet her, Lopez?”

Ella pushed a hand through her hair, and it fell in soft waves down her back. _Both_ of Michael’s shoulders twitched at the sight. If he didn’t eventually sever that tie between them and get some space, he’d just end up living his life with a boner and his wings out forever. It was far from optimal, and again no wonder his brothers were distracted idiots.

“I was in a bad car accident when I was eight years old. She was there, and I thought she was from the other car and scared too. She was talking to me and seemed so confused so I gave her my stuffed bunny and hugged her and said the firemen were gonna help soon. I kept seeing her around after that night, and eventually she told me she’d died in the accident actually and was hanging out with me because of ghost business.” Ella frowned. “Rae Rae made up all these fake ghost rules about why she was visiting me. So, I dunno, any time things didn’t make sense, she’d go ‘ghost rules,’ and it’s not like I knew how the dead worked so I went along with it.”

“She really made a mess, huh?”

“My friends and family were worried when I got to middle school and still had an imaginary friend. I made the mistake of saying she was a ghost, and it got real bad.”

“Did you go to a hospital?”

She glared at him and her eyes went serpentine and stayed that way. The bottle of water in his hand started to vibrate too as the water bubbled. “We’re _never_ talking about that. Not ever. Do you understand me? You read that, and _jódate_ , Mikey.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry that happened. There’s a reason we shouldn’t reveal ourselves to humans. Amenadiel used to agree on that. Little Sis should have known better.” He set the water bottle down and drummed his fingers on the counter. “But she was confused?”

Ella considered that, her green eyes glittering. “Yeah, she had like a bunch of papers with her during the accident and was still reading them as I thought we were waiting for the EMTs, you know? She kept making sure my name was ‘Ella Lopez’ and looking at the papers. Like _a lot_. Then eventually I gave her my stuffed bunny because I thought she was stressed out. Then, we just hung out, but yeah, she was confused first. Why?”

He sighed. “Get dressed, Lopez. I’m not hanging with Rae Rae in my pajamas. But I’ll pray, get her butt here, and then we’ll see what she knows. I have a suspicion you were never on her list at all.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t think you _can_ be on it,” he said, hurrying back to his room.

**

Rae Rae was as subtle and also as prone to blurting crap out as Ella was. Not optimal for the situation they were in. He’d prayed before even getting dressed back in his room and demanded his sister appear within the hour for Ella’s sake. When he’d gotten back to the living room, he found his sister sitting in the gamer console and staring wide-eyed at Ella.

“Holy moly, your eyes are amazing! Are those contacts, Lopez?”

Ella’s eyes were still bright and glittering across the expanse of the living room. Today, her t-shirt read, “Everyone who’s not coffee, can leave” and displayed a scowling raccoon with a ceramic mug clutched in his paws. Michael smirked to himself to see it. Well, making raccoons had been a great idea after all.

Long time before payoff happened but so worth it if it made Ella happy.

Michael didn’t even ask, just limped to the sofa and sat next to Ella. He wrapped his good arm around her and glared back at his sister. If she had a question about whatever was going on between them---and Michael could hardly define it much beyond forced punishment---well, for once Rae Rae didn’t ask.

“You want to rephrase that, Sis?”

Rae Rae took off her glasses (yeah, he had no idea about those either) and rubbed them against her sweater. “Sorry, and since when do you hang out with Lu?”

“I don’t, but there was some shit I pulled, Dad got mad, and I’m here for the duration.”

Ella rolled her eyes, which had finally settled back to brown. “We’re cosmically tethered together. Your dad won’t let us be more than 200 cubits apart.”

Michael nodded. “I tried it. I snapped back into reality back in her lab when I went more than about fifty extra feet.”

“Wow, you really did piss off Dad this time.” Azrael shook her head. “I told you to leave Lu alone and stop whining about him and all the accolades he was getting. But do my brothers ever listen? Pfft no. It’s all the Demiurge ego. Big deal. You know who is the chief psychopomp for the multiverse? This gal!” she said, gesturing to herself with both her thumbs.

Ella’s eyes grew wide. “Wait…there’s a whole multiverse? Is this like _Rick and Morty_?”

“More complicated, chica, and not relevant for now,” Michael replied. “Look, Dad put me on probation for obvious reasons.”

“Yeah because I heard you made the Nephilim sick. That’s what Remiel said.”

“Remi is an idiot. I took advantage of his illness cause he’s mortal to piss off Amenadiel. I have standards.”

His sister rolled her eyes. “Review that sentence.”

“Anyway,” Ella said, continuing on. “Big angel fight in the precinct, Amenadiel froze time, and I walked in on the brawl, so you know that I know.”

“Oh crap,” his sister blurted.

Michael let his walls down and forced himself to concentrate what he could at Azrael even though his powers unleashed at all would still up Ella’s anxiety. “Azrael, you knew this was coming, didn’t you?”

“No, I didn’t think necessarily she couldn’t be frozen like a human.”

Ella burrowed into his side a little, and Michael wondered if she’d even realized she’d done it.

Lopez snapped back at his sister. “You knew I wasn’t human though, didn’t you? This whole time! You knew from the car accident on, and you didn’t warn me!”

Azrael sighed. “I didn’t want to scare you. That’s why I didn’t remind you I was an angel ever after the car accident, and that’s why I popped in a lot to keep an eye on you. I…you weren’t on my list. I mean, I’ll put it this way: ‘Ella Lopez’ was on my list, but I got there, got one feel of you, and knew you weren’t her.”

“Um, dude, it’s on my birth certificate and social security number and passport that time I went to see my cousins in Chiapas and---”

“No,” Rae Rae said, polishing her glasses again. “Yeah, you were raised as Ella Lopez, but you’re not her.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Azrael, you’re supposed to _help_ clarify this crap. Stop scaring her!”

“I’m not. I just…okay, it’s like changelings, right? I figure there was an ‘Ella Lopez’ cause she was on my roster for that place and time, but you’re not her. Like something switched you out probably in your crib when you were pretty young. You parents never noticed, and you’ve been pretty normal except, you know, not feeling human to me or actually being the person on my list. You never did anything weird this whole time, so I figured, I dunno, maybe whatever you are, you’re like a runt? Like you don’t do anything, and that’s why you got swapped out in the first place.”

Ella blinked. “What?”

Michael felt that acrid hit of fear again, and the more he got to know Ella and the more he found himself somehow enjoying her company, then conversely the more he loathed feeling her pain and terror this acutely.

Rae Rae offered them both a sad, sympathetic smile. “I…I’ve never had a pickup for someone and them not be there. It was a first for me, and I was worried. Dad is always on walkabouts and stuff now so there was no one to ask. I didn’t want to ask you, Mi, cause, well, you’re still technically head of the legions.”

He bristled at that. “Honorary title only. You know that Gabe does the real enforcing.”

“I didn’t tell you, Mi,” she started over again. “because I know you do your duty. I would never tell Gabe cause he’s an asshole.”

“I don’t understand,” Ella said, looking between them, her eyes shiny with unshed tears.

“As the head of the legions…when I was fit to be a soldier, I was in charge of getting rid of all threats. For the longest time it was other pantheons, yes like Norse gods or anything else that came our way. Then, things grew quiet, and Sam grew restless, and after the Rebellion, there really hasn’t been anything to fight. But it’s still technically my job along with being the Judge. I…if Azrael had told me about someone not on her roles at the time, I’d have eliminated you to be safe.”

Ella pulled away from him instantly, and he loathed the lack of contact. “You would have? I’d have been like eight, dude.”

“I have orders, and I follow them. The last month being a spectacular exception, Lopez. You don’t do what Dad says and, well, get Samael to show you all that he really is now.”

His sister blanched and looked vaguely green. Of course, she would. Rae Rae dropped souls off at the gates. She knew all that Sam had become. It was most unpleasant. That was _not_ happening to him too. Not ever.

“So ‘just following orders’ makes it okay?”

Michael flexed his hands. His good one actually made a fist but his bad one barely fluttered, per usual. “It’s what we do, Ella.”

“Rae Rae refused, and it saved my life.”

Azrael nodded. “I should have sided with Lu a long time ago, but I was really young and…but I wasn’t gonna get an eight-year-old, uh, _being_ killed. No way. So, I kept an eye on her. I was getting so busy though, and she needed more so I steered her to Lu as much as I did him to her. That way they could keep an eye on each other. I thought it would help.”

Michael nodded. Made as much sense as anything. “Dad knows she’s not normal now. He doesn’t know _what_ she is, so we’re supposed to find out. I guess He’ll figure out if she’s safe after that.”

“And what if Dad decides she’s not?” Rae Rae objected.

“Then we’ll deal with it then,” Michael bit back.

Ella was pacing between both of them, and her eyes were glittering then and her words slightly lispy as she spoke. “I’m right here! You can’t just decide things about me like I’m not. I…what if the Big Guy wants to get rid of me?” She stilled and turned on her heels to face him. “Would you do it?”

“No.”

“But you lie,” she pointed out.

Michael stood and matched her own stare with a golden-hued one of his own. “Not about this. We figure out what you are, and hopefully it’s a friendly pantheon or you’re a runt like Rae Rae thinks or whatever, and then Dad’s fine with it.”

“And if he’s not?” Ella hissed.

Rae Rae’s eyes bulged at her tongue flicking out. “Whoa, okay, so that’s new. Anyway, Dad _has_ to be okay with it. He just has to.”

“What if the Big Guy hears what I am, and I’m a threat? Tell me that!” Ella begged them both.

Michael gestured broadly with his good hand. “I don’t care what He wants. I…we’ll _make_ Him like what you are if we have to.”

Rae Rae nodded. “You aren’t one of the Endless, and you’re definitely not a demon. So not an Old One. Trust me, you’d have like so many tentacles by now. Then you’re probably some demigoddess, you know? I mean, that’s what’s logically left that Amenadiel can’t freeze. Most of the time the other pantheons are lesser, so Dad just ignores them.”

“Except the Norse,” Michael bitched.

“And you’re the one who took like decades to kill one wolf,” Rae Rae chided.

“Anyway,” Ella said, still sniffling. “What if I’m some demigoddess your dad hates?” She glared up at him. “I mean, if you’re just gonna follow orders, right? Dad says ‘kill the _fake_ Ella Lopez’ and you do it, right?”

Michael’s eyes flared up again, and he set his good hand on her shoulder and worked as hard as he could to finally get his right arm to obey and do the same on the other side. “ _No_ , I never would. Now, Lopez, I have to talk to Sam and see if I can get Menny in on research. He reads everything, you know? The scholar of the family. If you and Rae Rae can brainstorm any possible candidates to read up on, we’ll find it, okay?”

“But if your dad asked---”

“No, Ella. It would never end up like that.” He sighed and kissed her cheek. “I’ll even play nice with Samael to make sure you’re safe. Okay? You have my word, and I don’t lie to you, hear me?”

She pulled away from him and rubbed her cheek, her green eyes wide and bright. “I…really?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ll invest in a neon sign for you, Lopez, or a flip chart. No, not gonna happen. You and Azrael try and figure more out about you. Show her your water tricks. I dunno, but I have to talk to Samael. I…we’ve got this.”

“Because I have the Fist, Poison, and Help of God on my side for now?” she asked.

“I am pretty helpful, right?” Azrael said, perking up at that. “Lu’s not really poison. I always that that was such a dumb name.”

Michael considered his own ruined frame and their shattered family. Rae Rae worshipped his twin, always had. He was on the opposite end of the opinion spectrum from her. But she tolerated Michael, himself---still talked to him and didn’t look through him and his disability---because he was like Samael. It was superficial, but it was enough. So, even if she really loved someone she couldn’t see most of the time, Azrael still cared for Michael.

And he was desperate enough to take what crumbs he could. That made him want to curry Azrael’s favor even if she was wrong about Sam.

“It’s something,” he finally agreed noncommittally.

“And you wouldn’t kill me?” Ella asked again.

“I don’t kill humans,” Michael said flatly.

“I’m not, apparently. I’m not even the real _Ella Lopez_!”

He sighed and kissed her cheek once more. “Not you. I don’t bullshit you, and it probably won’t come to that, but if it did, we’d protect you. I know it. So just see what you can learn with Azrael. I’ve run down my good will from Samael, so I better not keep him waiting, even if he’s the type to always be late himself.”

Rae Rae laughed. “Yeah, such a good thing he’s not the angel of time. If he had Amenadiel’s powers, nothing would have even started rolling in the universe. Who’d have thought that Lightbringer always sleeps in?”

Ella sobered and chuckled a little. “I…yeah that’s definitely Luce. Okay, Mikey, I…okay.”

He nodded and started to the front door of the apartment. Michael had gone out of the door and made it to the elevator before his sister poofed into reality in front of him.

  
“You were supposed to be with her! You couldn’t even wait thirty seconds before you ditched? Really Rae Rae?” he objected.

“First, she’s getting Margaret and helping set up some tricks she’s teaching her. She wants to show me her progress. I thought it might help get Ella relaxed before we did more testing on her too.”

“You’ve hung out with Margaret?” Michael raised his shredded arm. “Can’t say we’re mutual fans of each other. But Ella---”

  
“Dude, I’ll be back in a few minutes. I just…first, you really fucked up trying to steal Lu’s life or whatever this tantrum was. I can feel it from across the room. You don’t have your powers, do you?”

“Oh, Father was kind enough to let me keep my wings, such as they are, and don’t egg me on, Little Sister, since I can more than ask you ‘what you fear’ and such. I just…my strength and invulnerability are not currently mine, no.”

“I told you to leave Lu alone! You dummy!”

“I didn’t hurt him. _Much_.”

She slapped his bad shoulder and that was on purpose. Fuck, between his little sister and Lopez, he was going to get bruises, and wasn’t that embarrassing? “I asked you not to for your sake too, idiot. I knew it would make Dad mad. I mean, yeah, He’s been gone a lot.”

“For around forty years.”

“But messing with the Devil is a big, big deal. I didn’t want that kind of heat on you, at all. I just…is it gonna come back?”

“When and if Dad decides. I mean, I’m still immortal assuming I don’t accidentally eat a bad hot dog and get food poisoning or some crap like that. It’s a hiccup.”

“Sure, dude. Next time? _Both_ of you should just listen to me. It would save a lot of problems.”

“Maybe you have a point.”

“Second!” she chimed, poking him in the chest. Chock up another bruise there too. The Angel of Death was stronger than he remembered. “what’s up with you and Ella?”

“We’re magically tied together until Dad says ‘olly olly oxen free,’ no big deal.”

  
“Yeah, so you’re cuddling up with her and kissing her on the cheek due to being grounded by Dad, sureeee.”

“Scandalous, I know,” he huffed and pressing the elevator button again. Why wouldn’t the damn thing open? “What’s your point?”  
  


“She’s better than you, you know?”

_Oh, et tu, Azrael_.

It hurt. Despite his lifetime of being kicked in the face, and the way all his siblings---especially Raphael with whom he’d been close once---ignored him, Michael had felt that he still had Rae Rae in his corner. Again, it was a reflected kind of affection, but it had felt like tenderness.

“I know that,” Michael finally offered. “I’m just trying to help her. She’s scared, and she has no idea what’s happening to her. We’re friends, Rae Rae. Okay? I know I’m no good for anyone.”

“She doesn’t…she’s scared of so much as it is. It’s not a good match, Mi.”

He nodded, and the doors finally opened. “And whose fault is that, Azrael? You couldn’t watch her and hide yourself from her well enough. Ella was teased and hospitalized and worse because her whole family assumed she was schizophrenic. You did that, and it’s no wonder she was terrified of herself even _before_ this happened. You hurt her first, so maybe own that too.” He leaned forward, and this time relished the fear bubbling up from his baby sister. “Oh, and you’re right, so very much of this is your fucking fault!”

“Stop reading me, Mi!” Rae Rae shouted, her eyes growing wide and pained behind her glasses. “Stuff like that is why no one likes you.”

“Clearly, now do your damn job, Sis, and keep an eye on Ella. Maybe you can get that right for once in about thirty years. It would be a first,” he said, slipping onto the elevator and up to Sam’s penthouse.

**

Thanks to his sister, Michael was already in a piss poor mood when he arrived at the penthouse. When the elevator doors opened, he glared hard at his twin and stalked as best he could to the bar, even if the effect was marred by his right leg dragging a bit. His brother was behind it and already halfway through a double shot of scotch. It was a dumb habit in a way, unless Sam was just ingesting buckets of the stuff, he’d never feel it. Then again, there was probably a reason his twin owned a bar at all and not just for the supplicants and orgy fodder.

However, Michael was good and vulnerable now and feeling the weight of everything now after even Azrael had turned on him. As if it were her job to protect Ella’s virtue…as if he wanted Lopez’s virtue.

He’d never…

It was shameful enough that he’d been swayed by exhaustion and punishment and _actually feeling_ carnal needs to do what he’d done. Worse yet that she’d barged right in on it and caught him like a human teenager shrieking at his mother. It was not exactly a ringing endorsement for trying _anything_ sexual again. Besides, he barely knew Lopez. He just was literally tied to her and trying to help because if she got what she wanted, he got what he did: freedom.

The rest of the feelings, the touches, the…well _all of it_ were little more than the strange effects of being rendered mostly mortal and stranded on Earth. The needs of the human (like) condition were drawing him in, tempting him to debase himself as his brothers had.

_Damn it!_

He could and would be better than that.

Besides, whatever else was happening to Ella, Azrael wasn’t even _wrong_. Ella was better than he was. Fuck everyone he’d ever met basically was. He was used up, and even Father had no real need of him, even after leading His legions and being His Judge.

“Vodka, neat, Sammy,” Michael barked, shaking himself out of his thoughts.  
  


“Pour your own, Mikey,” Samael rejoined. “I suppose that might entail a few more steps than you’re used to, what with the shambling and the risk of dropping a few bottles first. On second thought, I’d rather not risk the top shelf offerings slipping through your fingers.”

Michael’s glare intensified, but he said nothing as Sam poured him a drink. He downed it in one shot, letting the Vodka burn down his throat, and then pushed the glass back to his twin. “A second, and then we’ll trade notes.”

“You’re pushing my generosity.”

Michael laughed, and it was a bitter, braying sound. “I think you owe me a few million, so just do it. I don’t want to be here any longer than you would want me to be here. I’m sure you have something to do between the sheets with your miracle anyway.”

The glass shattered in Sam’s hand, and his twin had always been the consummate drama queen. “Don’t speak to me about the Detective. She’s _none_ of your concern, and you should be thankful I didn’t finish what I started with your wings the moment I found out you’d tried to seduce her.”  
  


Michael sighed. “So that second drink’s out then? Also, to be fair, she seduced me and played me and I, okay, I definitely thought about it but most of that was her setting me up.”

His brother snorted. “For someone who hates me, you’ve put a lot of effort into stealing things from me of late. And you’re only being treated with my mercy---”

“Yeah, Satan’s famous for that.”

“---because I don’t know what just ending you would do to the connection Father’s enforced between you and Miss Lopez. If there was no risk of blowback from such an attempt, well, I might _not_ kill you, but you’d definitely be wingless, Mikey.”

He laughed and then doubled over harder when Samael blinked at him with confusion in his gaze. “Maybe you should anyway. They’re a half-measure. They barely work at all, and it takes so much effort and pain to use them. I…forget moving between planes. Even if Dad hadn’t touched me, I’d be on the charity of another one of the Host to get me back home.”

“Doubt you’re welcome much there, Brother.”

“Are you at all? Ever try to get past the gates, Sam?”

“Still,” Samael continued walking past him with his annoyingly deft grace and taking a seat at his piano. “you do try taking so much. I know you almost fucked Mazikeen. Fine, the traitor can do as she pleases. Then you want to seduce Chloe. I can’t fathom your intentions with Miss Lopez. I just…so many leftovers you’d like there, huh? Can’t even think how to make a life of your own, can you?”

“I can’t go more than a football field from her, and I’m helping her. That’s _all_.” Michael bit back. Something sharp twisted in his gut and made him far wearier than he’d been even with Azrael’s sharp rebuke. Despite everything, it hadn’t crossed his mind that Samael had slept with Ella too. Of course, his twin had. The Devil had probably slept with all of Southern California. “I get this figured out, get off probation, and I’ll be out of your shellacked hair. Happy then?”

“Hardly. The things you did to the Detective, going after our nephew, and even messing with the douche. None are forgivable, but to abduct Chloe? What even were you going to do with her?”

“Exactly what I did. I needed bait; she worked wonders. I bought her a coffee and had her sit in a lion cage--- _sans lions so you’re welcome_ \---for a day. She was safe, and I wasn’t going to…any crush I might have entertained was snuffed out when she shot me. Your miracle’s too much work.”

“You lie. I assume you were going to kill her.”

“That’s what you do to humans. Or maim them, as if I wouldn’t figure that out. I’d bet when you broke that man’s back last year you didn’t even know if he’d live, and you certainly didn’t give a Dad damn if he did. Yeah, I can tell he’s definitely one of yours _once he’s dead,_ cause that’s the deal, Sam. But you don’t get to execute. None of us do, or the system collapses. So, sure, assume I’d get my hands soaked with human blood. I wouldn’t.” Michael eyed him and strove for the deepest of digs. “I wouldn’t want to end up like you. The big miracle of Chloe Decker isn’t that Dad made her, or even that she’s resistant to your pull over desire.”

“She’s a better person than you ever dreamed of being,” Samael replied, and it didn’t escape Michael’s notice the way his twin’s hands had balled up into fists at his side.

“Oh, I’m sure. Never pretended to be a good anything, not anymore. But her real gift is that she knows you---all of you---and for some reason still finds your burns and bat wings and everything else desirable. Yeah, I know. _That’s_ so easy to read off of you that I felt it the second I stopped by the penthouse to chat with you a few weeks ago. Cling hard, Sammy, you won’t get anyone else who’d ever want that. Shame fifty years goes so fast.”

His twin was on his feet in a heartbeat and even faster had Michael yanked up to him by the scruff of his turtleneck. “Say it again. I’ll break that left wing; I swear it.”

“Yeah, seems you’re really good at the grievous bodily injury,” Michael said, wanting to push harder. Fuck all his siblings for judging him. There were worse things than being reviled. Being ignored---looked through---treated as contagious was far worse, and he was just so fucking tired. “Take them then.”

Sam’s eyes flashed, and he seemed to finally get control of himself. He dropped his hold on Michael’s shirt and, of course, off kilter, Michael tumbled to the floor. He exhaled sharply when he landed on his now-mortal and always weak side. His twin didn’t offer to help him up, and Michael wasn’t surprised.

“You’re not worth it.”

Michael wheezed and tried to struggle up but just gave up eventually and leaned pathetically against the bar, the only way to keep him sitting at all. “But no, I don’t _kill_ humans or hurt them physically. I don’t want to end up like you. Because you might glamour like a pro, Brother, but we both know what you are underneath, and that won’t be me. _Not ever_.”

“Father wouldn’t bother. He’d just snap his fingers and snuff you out.”

  
“Like you did with Uriel?”

Sam’s face fell, and he didn’t say anything for a long time, just walked back his piano and started to play something Michael had no hope of placing. He knew little of human music after all. Michael had assumed his twin had dismissed him until Samael finally spoke again, his voice soft and almost so quiet even Michael barely heard it.

“This is about Miss Lopez. Let’s talk about your ‘tests’ for her and not relitigate everything again. It won’t help her, and that’s the one thing I assume we both can agree on for now.” Sam continued to play, the pace of whatever he was pounding out intensifying. “However, you’re hardly one to talk, you gargoyle. You’re already more than ruined.”

“Yeah, and who did that?”

“And who stabbed their twin---their own flesh and blood---in the side and kicked him to Hell?” Sam demanded. Michael had no answer for that, and eventually Samael continued. He loved the sound of his voice oh so much. “I thought so. Speak, Michael. I’ve granted you an audience, so make it worth my time.”

“I’m not your servant. Or your demon.”

“No just working with her. Mikey, you’ve no high ground here so please explain what in Father’s name you were doing to get Miss Lopez to react like that and just how much fear you tapped into with her.”

He sighed and rubbed at his face, dropping his hand when he traced the edges of his scar. It was new enough that he sometimes forgot about it, but, of course, it was there. All his ugliness and all Sam’s doing.

Some twin he was. Some Demiurge they were.

“We decided mutually if we pushed her emotionally that she’d be able to tap into her power. She said I could probe her fears.”

“She was shaking when I got there, and she exploded every pipe in this building. You’ve no idea how many favors I had to call in and how much of my ledger I used up just to get _Lux_ in shape for tonight because of a party pre-booked that was…never mind. We both know you just didn’t ‘probe,’ but you dug as deep as you go, Mikey. How dare you spelunk and roll around in her phobias. How dare you use her like that!”

He opened his mouth but said nothing for a while. Damn it, and that was why he hated his twin the most. Even beyond their history and his ruined side, even beyond the way the Host now sang Samael’s praises for literally doing the bare minimum, Michael loathed that Sam had always seen through him. _That they’d always seen through each other_. The Devil wasn’t wrong. Michael had taken too, had found parts of Ella’s fear so rich and intoxicating that when he’d gotten going, he just couldn’t stop. It had gotten her where she needed to be, but it hadn’t…it hadn’t been altruistic at all.

“It worked,” Michael finally settled on. “And too well maybe.” He sighed and took a deep breath before catching his twin up on Ella’s changes in the wee hours of the morning and Azrael’s confirmation that whatever Ella was, she’d never actually been on her books at all. “It’s been a long twenty-four hours or so.”

His brother had stopped playing at some point in the recounting. Michael was pretty sure he’d heard a discordant note when he’d mentioned Ella’s snake tongue, which, yeah wasn’t that quite the fucking surprise. However, now Sam was quiet for once, blinking back at him with his mouth agape.

“All true,” Michael added, wincing a little at the pain starting to throb through his right side. He couldn’t…getting up wasn’t an option but the way he was settled was exacerbating his injuries. But far be it from him to beg Samael for help. He would _not_ sink that low. “I need to see if Amenadiel can come over, start from your extensive library. He reads everything, the scholar and all of it. Rae Rae thinks some demigoddess and that makes sense. Just have to start looking for snake goddesses, I think, who can control water. How hard can it be?”

“Famous last words,” Sam finally muttered. “Is she alright?”

“Well, she’s not thrilled, and she’s pretty damn terrified of herself, but I left her with Azrael. They get along really well, and Rae Rae decided to put Ella at ease before doing more water powers practice---just plastic bottles of water, nothing as bad as the pipes that don’t work---by hanging out with her and Margaret.”

“The chicken?”

“Yes.” Michael huffed. “Little Sis doesn’t mind the implication that all birds are like us, and there should be bonding. She and Ella really are on the same wavelength.”  
  


Samael’s posture relaxed a little, and he smiled at that. “I should have known sooner that Azrael had a hand in Miss Lopez. I don’t like that my family kept sending women my way.”  
  


“Yeah, so, about Linda. What is she?”

“Human as far as I know. Just annoyingly incisive.”

“You could say that,” Michael replied, deciding for once not to be an ass and reveal the dark secrets eating at Linda’s soul. He didn’t much give a shit if she’d given a kid up once before Chucky anyway. “Just making sure she’s not like secretly a lamia or something.”

“Not that I have ascertained, no.”

“For fuck’s sake, Samael, you really do collect the most hardheaded women around you. I’m not sure if that’s because of or in spite of your personality.”

“But…” his twin said, deciding not to take the bait. “a couple of years ago or so, when Rae Rae came clean about steering Miss Lopez my way, I should have pressed more. She shouldn’t have hidden the fact that Ella needed the protection because she wasn’t actually human.”

“Would it have made you bolt on Lopez, though?”

“No, but it would have helped some, I think. I don’t…” Sam sighed. “alright, I was incensed by Rae Rae’s machinations, perhaps it would have been the straw that broke the camel’s back at that point.”

“Well, isn’t Little Sis clever, despite lying more than I do? ‘Ghost rules,’ how ridiculous.” Michael tried to stand again but his right leg wasn’t even listening to him at that point in the day. “So that’s where we are. I…what happens if she’s something Dad doesn’t like?”

Sam’s entire face flashed for a moment as he spoke, as Hellish as he got. “Well, I fought Rebellions before over lesser things than my friends. We’ll see where that leads us, but I’ll call Amenadiel and get him over tomorrow. Keep working with her, but if you scare her that badly again, I will kick your sorry arse.”

“Still not British,” Michael huffed then surprised himself by being honest. “If I hurt her like that again, I’d come up here myself for whatever you could dish out.”  
  


“Do you care about her? Or is this all about your punishment, and you're just screwing with her because Miss Lopez is under my protection?”

Michael narrowed his eyes at his brother and wanted to snap at him about how that was a hell of a way to describe someone Sam must have had sex with. But he just couldn’t process that currently.

Instead, he replied, “I have my own reasons.”

“You always have them. She’s not a pawn or a game or whatever else your beady little mind is thinking about, Mikey. We all want you untethered from her as soon as possible. We get our answers, get Dad to break the punishment, and then it’s like closing time at _Lux_.”

“I don’t follow.”

Sam stood from his piano and went back to get more Scotch from his bar. Of course. “You don’t have to go home, Brother, I doubt that any angel would bother to help you do that. However, once you’re free of Miss Lopez, you most certainly can’t stay here. I don’t want you in my city. I don’t want you on this continent. Earth’s huge place, even if you’re mostly mortal currently. Find any other place to live. Try Asia; I don’t give a toss. But you’re not welcome here, and once you and Miss Lopez aren’t intertwined, I’ll run you out on the rails myself.” His twin’s eyes flashed crimson. “You know I can do it too, always could even with that fancy flaming sword of yours on your side once upon a time.”

“I hate you.”  
  


“Oh, I assure you, the feeling is mutual. Now, are you ever getting back up? Chop chop, the time to work with Miss Lopez is wasting.”

Michael would have snapped back at his idiot brother when the elevator doors opened again, and Azrael and Ella entered. He struggled up harder, desperate not to have her see him this way, so weak and pathetic, and his frantic efforts backfired, as he slipped and collapsed to his right side on the floor. Soon, soft hands were on his shoulders and also reaching under his arm pits. Slowly, Michael realized that Ella and Rae Rae were trying to help him up.

Embarrassed, Michael kept his focus on the reflectively shiny tile of Sam’s apartment as he tried his best to get his right leg to respond. “You know,” he wheezed. “I’m pretty heavy, Lopez, you should let Rae Rae handle it.”

  
“It would be rude,” she bit back.

Rae Rae must have been the one with her hands under his arm pits because she yanked him up hard and steadied him. After all, the Angel of Death was far stronger than any human woman. Or whatever Ella actually was. Probably. Since he was stripped of some of his powers, currently his little sister was stronger than he was. The humiliation just kept on coming.

_Thanks, Dad._

He concentrated on the floor, on putting one foot before him before he got to Sam’s sofa and collapsed on it. When he looked up, he found Rae Rae sitting next to him, worry in her eyes and the bitterness of their earlier fight seemingly forgotten. She’d sat to his left and had her hand on his good shoulder.

“Do you need anything? What happened?”

“Good question!” Ella demanded, and he looked up to find a truly intoxicating sight.

There was Lopez in all her fury with her hands on her jeans, her stance turned toward the Devil, and her hair down and, okay, new one, since when had it become a rainbow of vibrant reds? Clearly this was part of whatever she was, as the changes triggering her powers kept bringing traits out. His shoulders twitched in a way that had nothing to do with his pain and exhaustion, especially his left one, and Azrael removed her hand and frowned at him.

Oh, she’d felt them twitch and now knew he was struggling to keep his eyesores at bay.

But Ella was a…well _demigoddess_ seemed a good bet even if his sister hadn’t narrowed the contenders down for them. And truly she was with that riot of hair, long shades of crimson, maroon, scarlet, and jasper among others all fanning out behind her in her righteous indignation.

Damn it, Dad and the universe and everyone else, this woman was going to be the death of him. Or, at least, what little dignity he had left.

“Lucifer! How long was he like that?”

Samael’s eyes were wide at her, less used to her vacillating changes in appearance probably. “Miss Lopez…you see…”

“No, you see,” she said, and she shot a look over her shoulder and winked back at him with one, wide brown eye before turning back to Samael. “I want you two to get along. I know you don’t really, but while I’m in the mix you’re not going to attack each other, and you’re not just going to leave him in a heap. Not cool, Luce.”

And Michael couldn’t suppress his smirk at the way the former Lightbringer and now Devil shrunk under Ella’s gaze. Sam’s shoulders hunched up, and he suddenly found the counter of his bar just fascinating.

“Really, Miss Lopez---”

“No. I don’t want to hear some _bluffing_. You treat him like you’d treat me till he’s able to leave and go where he wants, okay? If you just leave him like that again, well, we’re not friends anymore. I expect you to be nicer. You’re like nice to everyone at the station.”

“That’s because Sam likes supplicants and his fawning public,” Michael muttered to himself. It was close enough for Rae Rae to hear because she rolled her eyes at him. “Still true,” he hissed at his sister.

“And so you can be nice to your own brother. Yeesh. It’s like that crazy twins murder case. It didn’t actually go down that way, but it takes some serious issues, dude, to leave your mirror image on the floor all helpless.”

Michael stood at that, forcing himself to do it.

_Pity_.

He did not need that, especially from Lopez. He’d moved through eons without it, anathema as it was in the Silver City. He would not let her just…it hurt worse than what Sam had done or even Rae Rae’s distrust to have Ella treat him merely like the crippled mess he actually was.

He knew he was _lesser_ ; Michael just didn’t want Ella to only see that in him too.

“I should go,” Michael grimaced. “I need the rest, and I guess Samael and Rae Rae have you covered.”

Ella, seeming to realize what she said, turned around and frowned at him. “I didn’t…that’s not what I meant.” She walked briskly over to him and oh to be able to move so easily again. Everyone around him didn’t know how good they had it.

Michael was hurt, but he couldn’t help himself. Reaching out, he stroked her hair. It really was like a rainbow of crimson, so many shades, ones he hadn’t thought of in billions of years since he and Sam had worked to create them.

Back when they’d been real brothers.

“Nice look there, Lopez. I…rest is good. You don’t need me for now.”

A soft hand was back on his shoulder and for once…just once…he felt something with his gifts that was beneficial to him. He hadn’t meant to, but he couldn’t turn off what he picked up on even with his walls as high as they could be. Ella was anxious but not about that asshole Pete or about her powers.

No. She was scared she was going to lose him.

Michael gaped at her but recovered quickly. She wasn’t supposed to know that he’d ferreted any worries from her at all.

“You don’t have to go,” she said.

“It’s fine,” Samael said, mechanically. “You can stay, Michael. That’s what Miss Lopez would like.”

“No, I know when I’m not wanted.” _Because I never am_. He stroked Ella’s hair again. “You and Rae Rae have some fun, catch up.”

She shook her head and stepped back from him. “Actually, Rae Rae says _Lux_ is back up today already.”

Sam smirked, the self-satisfied prick. “True on all counts. I have my ways, Miss Lopez.”

Ella nodded. “I’ve been abducted, freaked out, and cooped up a lot. I…the club’s more than 100 yards from our place…if Rae Rae and I get ready, could you…would you come down so I can just let off some steam?” She blanched at the phrasing in consideration of her abilities. “Metaphorically only, Luce. I just…it’d be fun, right?” She focused back on him intently.

Dear Dad, what even?

Michael was the last being on earth to want to be in a club with overpriced drinks---and that alone clenched it; the Devil was evil---a thrum of human bodies, prying eyes, and dancing. What the fuck would he do with that? How could he even?

Rae Rae had eased off the sofa and had come to stand next to Ella, and now there were _two of them_ with wide puppy eyes begging him. Not like Michael had ever been able to deny Rae Rae anything either.

_Damn them_.

“Come on, Mi. They have comfy banquettes and good cheese sticks!”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Maze and Patrick set that up years prior. I would have gone for higher fare, but bar food classics sell.”

Michael rolled his eyes at his twin’s fussiness. “Sure, I…sounds fun.”

Sounded like all the joy of having Sam manhandle him again, but the girls were excited, and Lopez had to be going stir crazy. Plus, if they stayed in then he might have to help her train her chicken. _Lux_ had to be better than that. A dark enough corner and no one would notice him anyway.

Ella squealed and clapped her hands together. “Great! Thank you!” She leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Okay, Rae Rae, and I are going to go down and get ready. See you later?”

“A promise is a promise, chica.”  
  


“Since when?” Sam drawled.

Michael glared at his twin over the girls’ heads. “Since now.”

Ella shot Samael a death glare. “Be nice!” Then, she turned and yanked Rae Rae (okay so Sis let her) to the elevator. “Okay, sure, I was thinking being down there about nine so tons of time. You two behave!”   
  
Ella frowned and then darted back out of the elevator car. Rae Rae held her hand out to keep the doors from shutting back as the scientist hurried to him. Reaching out, Ella squeezed his bad hand. “Seriously, thank you. This means a lot to me!”

In a few seconds, she was back in the elevator and riding it down to their place with the Angel of Death. Totally casual. And he did have to admire Ella for not collapsing in a ball of fear and never coming out of that again. He’d seen mortals do it under less stress. Not everyone could survive a serial killer, be punished by Dad, and be relegated to a type of captivity with Satan, the Angel of Death, and, ugh, the Angel of Fear watching and still manage to be perky.

Dear Father was she weird.

But in the best way.

Michael’s shoulders, which hadn’t really stopped twitching, won the fight with him and his wings pushed forward, his right taking a bit longer to manifest than his left. Sheepishly, he glanced at Samael, hoping desperately something like this…that weird connection between their wings and their dicks wasn’t something Sam knew about.

Judging from the murderous, red-eyed glare aimed at him, Michael guessed that had been a naïve hope. Of course, the living embodiment of desire knew.

Fuck.

“So, Twin,” Samael started, his voice low and dangerous. “tell me more about your motives.”  
  


Michael’s left wing fluttered nervously and the feathers on it formed blades. The right barely moved, nothing but a liability if any fight should erupt, but of course Samael knew that well.

“It’s nothing.”

“You fancy her,” Samael corrected.

“Still _never_ going to be British. How fucking pretentious, Sammy.”

“I mean it,” Samael replied.

And Michael could admit those red eyes glaring at him were eerie and off putting. He’d made the universe with Samael, the whole damn multiverse in point of fact. He remembered when they’d been mirror images truly, save for wing colors and powers, when his brother’s Grace had made his eyes as golden as Michael’s own.

“Besides, I don’t…I owe you nothing,” Michael said.

“Nope,” Samael said, inching out from the bar and circling him. Michael knew what was coming and dreaded it, would rather just be punched. “Tell me, Michael, Sword of God, well after a fashion these days. What is it you desire?”

He felt it, the way his brother’s power snaked out and coaxed his mouth open. Free Will, his ass. As if Sam’s gift had ever allowed for that any more than his own allowed for privacy.

“I…I want to be seen,” Michael choked out, hating that he couldn’t fight his brother’s power.

He blinked, unsure himself exactly what that meant. And perhaps his own riot of confused and conflicting feelings over Ella had saved him from saying more than that. He wasn’t even sure what he _desired_ with her, and since he honestly didn’t know, he couldn’t blurt that to Sam.

His brother frowned and processed Michael’s answer. Then, his twin ran his fingers over the wounded, limp edge of Michael’s right wing. He flinched at the intrusion, and even his wing responded enough to shudder for once.

“Why, _Mi_ , whatever for?” Samael teased, his tone honey sweet. “What is there to see?”

“I…fuck you, Sam.”

His twin stepped back, and the bastard let his wings unfurl, even now the shining, brilliant feathers of the Lightbringer. The only snowy white wings in all of Heaven and truly Father’s great gift---even fucking _now_ \---for the Favorite.

And maybe Michael was being paranoid. Maybe it was just his exhaustion talking, but he still wondered if it always would have come to this, if Dad had set this out before they’d even been formed. Why else had their wings never matched? Why had his been a dull, useless grey even at the dawn of time if not because he was never going to match up and eventually have his wings ruined anyway?

Sam shook his head at him, a cloying imitation of pity. “You tried _fucking_ with the Detective, if memory serves. I will _never_ forget or forgive that. So, I don’t know what you think anyone would ever ‘see’ in you but the weasel you are.”

Michael stood as tall as he could, faced his twin truly eye to eye and bit back, “Well, Sammy, what is it you fear?”

Sam fought it harder than Michael had been able to. He jammed his mouth shut and concentrated so hard his skin burned red and angry with his efforts, but they were equally matched after all, and it was useless in the end. Finally, his brother spoke:

“That I’m the same. That I’m still the king of Hell I always was.”

Michael smiled, and his side felt much better. Striding to the elevator, he smirked wider at his brother. “Yeah, that sounds about right. Don’t test me again. I still know which buttons to press, and I will go for them over and over again if you push mine first.” The door slid open, and he walked into the elevator. “And, deep down, you know you’re right. We both _do_. You’ve tamed yourself for your humans, but you know you’re not really _better_ , that you’re poison, _Samael_.” He snorted. “You always will be.”  
  


It felt fucking cathartic when the doors slid shut before him, and his insufferable twin had no pithy comeback.

Who was weak now?


	5. Evening the Playing Field

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ella, Michael, and Rae Rae relax at Lux...well, maybe Rae Rae and Ella do. Michael's a bit jealous watching guys ask Ella to dance. What's wrong with scaring a few away?

**Evening the Playing Field**

Michael passed out.

For quite a few hours, he enjoyed the relative comfort of his bed, and the distraction that Rae Rae was offering Ella in the other half of the apartment. There was little squawking, so Michael assumed whatever the girls were doing wasn’t involving Margaret. Maybe not even powers practice for all he knew. There were not quite enough explosions or building shaking for that. Probably left them catching up as he was unclear how often Rae Rae dropped in on Lopez.

Besides, he was sure Ella had some choice words for his younger sister and all her so-called ghost rules.

However, as nine p.m. approached, Michael complied with Ella’s request. He got out of bed, which was a struggle because it wasn’t like he’d been getting much sleep lately anyway. He figured what he wore was fine, but he tried a little to at least comb his hair which sort of helped. Curls kind of did what they wanted at the best of times. But oh well. He was just going to lurk (he was good at that) in a dark corner booth and not be seen anyway. A bit of brushed teeth since those might get cavities or some such other human-like bullshit now and splashed water on his face, and Michael felt if not presentable, then at least ready to go.

When he stepped out into the hallway, he found that the Angel of Death had traded her weird fish sweater and general nerdy hipster look for jeans and a blue tank top that had to have come from Ella’s closet, which by proxy meant something Sam must have procured. Again on that weird, dumb theory that if he just bought Lopez enough stuff, it might make her feel better her life was in free fall.

Yeah, sure, Sam, that was how life worked.

Still, Michael offered his younger sister a tight smile and checked his watch. “Ella get lost coming down the hallway?”

Rae Rae rolled her eyes. “She’s finishing up. Apparently, there are a lot of steps!”

Michael shrugged. Well, his left shoulder did. “Maybe, never seemed that complicated to me.”

Azrael grinned. “Me either, but Lu…man, it takes him forever.”

“That I believe,” Michael started. Then stopped fast.

Ella finally made her appearance, and, alright, maybe for a millisecond he hated Sam marginally less than normal. At least whatever his twin had purchased looked fucking amazing on Lopez. Her hair, which was still a riot of different shades of red and that seemed to be sticking more than the other changes in her, was down and curling slightly. He wondered if that was something Rae Rae had helped with and, being real here, had kept the girls more quiet than their usual. Ella’s rainbow of scarlet hair was complimented well by a black dress that was both cut nicely low and came up high on her thighs. It also was sparkly. Sequins or some shit, and Michael could admit that the extra shine was nice.

Maybe angels were a little like magpies.

But he’d deny that if Lopez ever asked out loud. Mostly, they weren’t birds.

Mostly.

Michael smiled at Ella and offered her his good arm. “Escort then? And, Lopez, you don’t clean up as bad as I figured you would. Pretty nice.”

She rolled her eyes. “Thanks, that’s an overwhelming endorsement.” Ella trotted over to him and how she managed in those heels, he had no idea. Must be a girl thing. Anyway, she slid her arm through his and smirked up at him. “Glad I meet your approval.”

“Meh, if I have to be out, it works,” he said.

Although if Ella knew anything at all about angel biology---and if he had a say in it, she wouldn’t---she’d have noticed him shifting his torso a bit in a frantic effort to keep his stupid, awkward, and why was this part of their design at all wings from popping out. He could tell from his sister’s curious looks that she’d noticed. And, more than that, that _Rae Rae_ knew too what that meant.

Interesting and annoying.

Speaking of the Angel of Death, she bounced over to him too and looked to his right arm and then up at his eyes again. “Can you escort the both of us then, Mi?”

He was still sore at her for getting on his ass about Ella. Not that they were ever going to date, which was some stupid human custom anyway. No, of course not. Michael was going to get this mess settled, get out of the punishment, and then leave once he was sure Ella was okay with whatever she was. He wasn’t sure Asia was where he’d end up. It definitely wouldn’t be Europe because England was there and anywhere even tangentially related to Sam’s fake accent was a no. So went South Africa and Australia too.

Maybe Brazil?

He just…eventually he’d take off when he could, avoid his siblings in his exile, and give Lopez her space.

Rae Rae was reading him wrong anyway.

Of all the Host, he was the most ill-equipped for a relationship. Except maybe his twin, and again, maybe Father had just made the Demiurge wrong from the start or, knowing Him, deemed whatever flaws they had an acceptable gamble or loss compared to what they were built to do to craft the multiverse.

Michael wasn’t sure, and that was the bitch of dealing with Dad at all.

But Rae Rae had also helped him up from an embarrassing position this afternoon, and she’d backed him with Sam after a fashion. So, for now, he’d humor her.

Grumbling to himself, Michael nodded. “Sure, Sis, if that’s whatever will keep you two quiet.”  
  


Rae Rae sidled up under his bad side and wrapped her arm around his. As they made their way out the door and to the elevator, it did not escape his notice that she was using her own strength to help keep him supported, to make his steps more fluid.

As the elevator doors opened, Michael smiled as best he could at his sister and tapped her forearm with his fingers. They cooperated enough for that.

_Dear Azrael, thanks. I appreciate this for once._

_Dear Michael, put it on my tab._  
**

The night was not exactly a success.

It wasn’t that he was any more miserable sitting at a banquette int the darkest corner of the club than he would have been in his room or training Margaret or back at the zoo for that matter. Misery was his constant companion so, to be blunt, the location change didn’t matter. He’d rather _not_ be stuck in territory owned and lorded over by Samael, but that wasn’t an option until the cosmic tether was cut. However, he wasn’t…dancing was not his thing, and Ella hadn’t been kidding about needing to burn off some steam. She and Rae Rae had mostly danced with each other.

If what the Angel of Death was doing could be called dancing. Michael was pretty sure it didn’t qualify, and some angels had no coordination. Funny what Father gave out and didn’t.

However, sometimes for the slower club numbers, guys came up to Lopez to ask her to dance.

Michael had watched grumpily from his seat and empire of cheese sticks and chicken wings (Sam _was_ paying for that after all, best to take advantage) the first time. He had _not_ enjoyed the vision of Ella and some strange human dancing at all. So, maybe, a little or, okay, _a lot_ , when other guys came to ask Ella to dance, Michael might have, kind of used his fear powers.

The last time, he’d been so annoyed he’d ramped it up enough that the loser drooling over Ella had yipped and bolted out of the club.

Maybe Michael shouldn’t have tapped the clourophobia as much. Clown stuff was a deft touch anyway, set humans off like crazy.

Ella had gone to the bar to get more drinks. Good on her, take advantage of Samael too because, seriously, twenty dollars for a Cosmo? That was just ridiculous. As Ella got drinks, Rae Rae moved toward his corner. Michael hesitated with a cheese stick, tossed it aside in the end, and instead, took a swig of the beer he’d ordered.

From the glare in Azrael’s expression, the Angel of Death had figured out what he’d been pulling.

Perfect.

His sister slid into the banquette side opposite from him and arched an eyebrow up at him. “So, how’s your night going?” She frowned and looked over the array of now-empty appetizer baskets before him. “So, maybe pace yourself on the fried crap? If you’re not invulnerable, then you can get like clogged arteries right?”

“Ugh,” he grumbled. “Probably. How perfectly ironic would that be. Angel dead of a heart attack. I swear, at least Father seems to enjoy whatever bizarre ways He sets up to torture us.”

She sighed and her expression softened. “You should never have come down here.”

“Ella wanted to dance.”

“No, I mean to Earth to mess with Lu at all.”

Michael sighed. “Too late to take it back now. Eventually I’ll get back into Father’s good graces?”

Rae Rae picked up a spare wing he hadn’t gotten to. “Forming a plan?”

“No, but I figured it’s inevitable. He loves ruining my life so much. Fun would end if I was vulnerable and died of some random disease. I mean, shitting on me has been at least a millennia long reality show for Him. It’s not gonna stop now.”

“You really are the biggest cynic.” She frowned at that and finished her wing before she spoke again. “Well, now that Uriel’s…”

“Murdered?” Michael said. “Don’t use a euphemism. Samael stabbed him with your blade no less and good job not getting that taken.”

“Uriel tricked me!” she objected. “I…Uriel would have killed Mom!”

“Yes, but Mom escaped from Hell where she was supposed to be, and you should agree with me more than anyone because you were busy for years after the Great Flood. I’ve never seen you more tired.”

Azrael deflated at that, and he forgot that, like Remiel, she was actually very young compared to the rest of the Host. That she was one of the last angels their parents had ever made, and both the Rebellion and Mother’s insanity had hit her hard. It seemed hopelessly naïve, but Michael suspected, even without reading her, that Rae Rae still hoped in some crazy way that their family would reconcile.

Those days were long past, and their mother had her own universe now anyway. Probably complete with brand new children.

It was better that way.

And yet…

Once there had been very good things about Mother and her glorious light. Michael couldn’t say he missed her, but he missed what she’d been long before wrath and insanity had consumed her. That much was true.

He sighed and set his good hand over Azrael’s. “I know you…I admit that even I didn’t think Father would stay mad as long as he has with Samael.” Michael shook his head. “Granted, I’ll be pissed at him forever, but I thought at first that maybe Sam would get to come home and Mother…all the Host wanted to be a family again eventually.”

“No one talks about it now.”

“Because, Sis, it’s not happening,” he said, and his tone was sharp and whiny even though he hadn’t it to be. Such was his lack of charm. “I know you hate that. Sorry that it is what it is.”

“Are you really that sorry?”

“It sucks you’re upset and clearly nurse it by throwing yourself into work and time on Earth even more than you have to be here,” he said.

She jolted in her seat. “You really are reading me!”

“No, but I can tell you don’t have to always be just dropping off at the pearly gates. The Judge knows how long processing takes. You can’t stand the Silver City either.”

“Haven’t for a long time,” she admitted. “However, this is more about tonight and what even, Michael. You have scared off at least five guys from dancing with Ella and, okay, not gonna lie most of them really were crappy and more like total felon bait, still! That last guy freaked out and ran for the exit.”

“He’s scared of clowns,” Michael defended, shrugging again. “Go figure.”

“Yeah, but idiot, your jealousy aside, Ella thinks that _she’s_ doing it.”

“Huh?”

Rae Rae moved her hand out from under his and slapped his shoulder. “Dude, she’s got all this new stuff happening to her and new powers and everything that she doesn’t understand. She’s totally thinking that _she_ made the guy run screaming without even knowing how she did it.”  
  


“Fuck.”

“Yeah, about like that.”

Michael swallowed hard. Of course, he hadn’t been thinking that. As amazing as Lopez looked tonight---and his shoulders had been twitching all night, thanks---Michael didn’t think she ever could have imagined herself as anything less than the demigoddess she probably was.

“I didn’t think.”  
  


Azrael snorted. “Oh, you were thinking, just with the wrong brain, Bro.”

“I…is she okay?”

“I asked her to get drinks because it’ll take like twenty minutes anyway with this crowd and so she could relax focusing on a task,” she said, eying him. “Look, I was bitchy this afternoon.”

“You don’t say.”

“But I…you’re not wrong.”

“Honestly, I rarely am. People hate me because I can see so easily through their bullshit. Sam’s power _caters_ to it, fulfills fantasies. My power tears all the lies down because people go into denial about their phobias by constructing so many walls and lies and everything else.”

“I know,” his sister replied.

“So, I know people. The reads are good. You know you messed up with how you handled Ella all these years.”

She nodded. “I did but I’ve never…not before or since have I ever just _not_ had someone on my list. I panicked! I tried to fix it. I just…I messed up.” Rae Rae sniffled a little to herself before continuing. “I don’t know if it made it worse or better, but when Ella was hospitalized, I visited her every day. I sat with her at night when she cried and tried to talk her through the whole thing. I _tried_ , Mi, and I did it all wrong, and I’m so sorry I screwed up. It’s why I don’t think you’re good for her. I don’t think any angel ever was.”

He nodded and sipped his beer again. It was getting warm and flat. “But me least of all, right Sis?”

She sighed. “I shouldn’t have said everyone hates you.”

“The Host do. They never knew what to make of me. When I led the Legion, I was useful. When I was maimed and my own self-loathing spiraled and amped up my fear powers, well, I was not.”

She glared at him and squeezed his hand. “I’m not like Raphael. I wouldn’t turn away.”

“If I didn’t look just like Samael, minus the disability of course, would you still hang out with me?”

“Yes.”

He frowned, surprised by the vehemence in her tone and her utter lack of hesitation. Despite everything, he probed her, let his walls down and searched her fears and ah. He should have known. Deep down, in her heart of hearts, Azrael feared losing her family. It still ate her up that being tricked out of her blade had cost them all Uriel.

Michael leaned over and kissed the crown of her head. “Well, alright. I don’t have many siblings rushing to hang out with me.”

He had exactly one, and he was sitting with her.

“No one really wants to be near death either. I mean, what I do. It’s messy and most of our brothers and sisters don’t really care about ferrying and weighing humans souls anyway. It’s…yeah you’re messed up.”  
  


“Gee, thanks.”  
  


“But Ella, whatever she actually is, she deserves a nice, normal human or something. Not another angel to mess her life up. I don’t think being around me or even around Lu has gone as well as I hoped.”

He finished his drink and nodded. “Understatement.”

“But you like her, huh?”

“She’s not as annoying as most humans.”

“Sure, dude. Try that again.”

“I don’t know what I want with her. Trust me, Sam did the ‘desire’ schtick on me---”

“He didn’t!”

“Oh, he very much did, and I couldn’t even blurt that out cause I don’t know. I have no idea what I want. All I know is that I’m stranded here and mortal-ish and I have feelings I’ve never had before because this plane is insane.”

“Oh, I know.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Your wings have been bothering you and not because of the injury. I can tell. I mean, dude, I’m not an idiot.”

“But you _know_?”

Was he the last of the Host to know that wings were tied to lust? Wait, since when had his baby sister had lust at all?

She chuckled, and her cheeks went red. “I’ve been on Earth a really long time. It happens! Besides, Death and I…well, not _all_ the Endless are assholes.”

Michael gave up then and set his head on top of the table, “Even my little sister has more of a clue about all of this than I do. Of course, she does.”  
  


“Look, for now, I dunno, Ella’s really upset, and you seem to calm her down. I don’t think that this can go anywhere. I don’t. That’s more my fault than yours. I handled this afternoon like crap, and I can tell you really do like her, even if you don’t know where this is going either.” She snorted, and he raised his head to look at her. “Like, Dude, it’s so obvious because you’re _scaring_ all competition away. I don’t want Ella to think it’s just her doing that. She can’t take that right now and, honestly, her choice in guys _sucks_.”

If Ella had once been with Samael too, well, between that and Pete the serial killer, Michael couldn’t argue Azrael’s point.

“Yes, so maybe get her to go upstairs and hang out with that chicken?”

Azrael rolled her eyes. “No! You dance with her, dummy.”

Michael sank down in his banquette. “I can’t.”

“No, you _won’t_ , and that’s different.” She arched and eyebrow at him. “You can move enough to do that. Most people in a slow number kind of just sway. You can definitely move enough to beat the crap out of Lu and Amenadiel in a police station.”

“Oh, so Lopez mentioned that too, huh?”

“Duh! So you can go over there, ask her for a dance, and explain how you’re an idiot and she’s not scaring anyone, Mi.”

“I just---”

She looked at him, her eyes narrowed behind her huge glasses. “Of all the fears you deal with, you can shove your own aside for a few minutes and fix the mess you made.”  
  


Huh, and so that was what it felt like to have someone see through you and to your anxieties. Yeah, no wonder people hated him. It wasn’t a good feeling, and he was being so pathetic and needy and obvious.

“I know, and I---”

“Nope!” she said hopping up and gesturing to him to get out of the banquette. “No excuses. You did this. Ella thinks some dude hightailed it out of here cause she’s not normal, which she isn’t, but that’s not the reason for his big, scaredy runaway, oh Angel of Fear and Jealousy. So you go and you fix it!”

He stood after a bit of a struggle and shook his head. “The things you and Lopez talk me into. I swear.”

“But you like it.”

“I loathe it, but it was a shitty thing I did. I can admit it. Keep the seat warm. I won’t be long, Rae Rae.”

He walked across the floor, and honestly, he was doing better than most of the time this late at night because he’d rested. Not like he’d pull off anything complicated on the dance floor, but he wasn’t limping too much and could sway long enough to apologize to Lopez.

He found her at the bar, hopelessly trying to get a bartender’s attention even now. Place was packed for whatever party this was. Michael set a hand on her shoulder, and she spun back and regarded him. The goosebumps were already spreading over her skin, and he dropped his hand. Damn it. In his own anxiety, he wasn’t keeping his own walls up that well.

On the other hand, the patrons who were made uneasy by his presence had started to fan out like the Red Sea, giving him and her some space.

“Hey! I was trying to get a drink, but it’s been pretty hopeless,” she said, and her voice was a bit higher than usual and falsely bright. “I could have brought you something if you’d asked. You didn’t have to…”

“Did you order?”

“Ugh, not yet. Dumb crowd,” she blinked around her. “which is now not around.”

He shrugged. “Weird perks of hanging out with me. I can clear a room like no one’s business.”

Her lower lip wibbled a little and Michael officially felt like crap, well, moreso than his usual. “I think I just did that too with at least the last guy I asked to dance with me. He got so nervous and ran out. I…oh, did Rae Rae tell you that?” She glared at him. “Are you checking up on me?”

Michael shoved his bad hand as best he could in his pants pocket. “Okay, so that’s not your doing.”  
  


Ella’s glare intensified. “ _Explicáme_. Tell me what you mean.”

“Well, okay, some of the guys weren’t really worth it and I might have…well I did…and you really dodged a bullet. That last tool had this massive fear of birthday clowns, Lopez. He wouldn’t do you any good.”

“You’ve been scaring them away all night! Are you kidding me, dude?”

Michael took a step back from her, regretting that he’d agreed to his sister’s demands. Even without the uncertain powers, Lopez on a tear was a scary thing to witness. He held up his left hand flat to placate her. “I surrender, okay? It was a shit thing to do.”

“Understatement, _culo_. I thought I’d just done it and… _all of them_? _Toda esta noche?_ You’ve been doing it since I got down here!”

“Yes.”  
  


She rolled her eyes. “Why would you do that? You knew I wanted to just relax for a few hours, and sure hanging with Rae Rae is fun, but I was just trying to feel better. Normal, you know. I wasn’t going to…I’m so not at a point for anything more than a dance with anyone. I just…you better have a great reason for it!”

“Well, like I said, the guys were losers, and you can do better.”

Ella turned away from the bar and started for the elevator. “Sure, whatever. I am sure they were all better than the serial killer who tried to kill me.”

Michael hurried after her and desperate, reached out and grabbed her shoulder. “That came out wrong.”

She spun around and her eyes glittered green in her anger. Not inhuman, no weird slit pupils, yet if anyone did see her, they’d assume special contacts. “Really because it sounds like you’re being petty just because you can be and that’s not cool.”

“I was jealous!” And Michael was glad the DJ and music at _Lux_ was so loud. No one really noticed his outburst. Despite the wide berth the patrons instinctively were giving him and Ella by extension, no one really blinked at such a dumb statement.

  
Except Lopez.

She quirked her head at him, and could his shoulders and his stupid, annoying, just overrated on this plane for sure erection give it a rest already? But damn it all if Ella regarding him in that dress barely painted on and with her hair like that and her, alright, earned fury wasn’t everything he’d ever wanted.

He was pretty sure thinking of Castiel’s off key singing or Uriel’s once ago and very dull welcome speech wouldn’t help this time.

Or at least not for long.

“What?” she breathed, and if he weren’t a Celestial (kind of), Michael wasn’t sure he’d have heard her above the din.

“I was jealous,” he admitted. “I’m sorry. It was petty and immature and dumb, and I just…you didn’t scare anyone, Lopez.” He reached out with his left hand and stroked her cheek. “Trust me, you couldn’t possibly. Everyone here has their eye on you because you’re beautiful and amazing and…I’ll just go back to my beer now. I won’t fuck up any guys trying to ask you to dance again, alright? I am sorry; I swear.”

He turned to shuffle back to his booth and trade places with Rae Rae on Ella-sitting duty, when Ella’s hand reached out and grabbed his. “What if I don’t want to dance with any other guys right now?”

Michael stilled and eyed her. “It’s been a long day. Talking with Sam didn’t go great.” _Understatement_. “And I am tired of being confused. What does that mean?”

She sidled up next to him and put her other hand on his weak shoulder. Michael stilled instinctively when touched there. If she had been anyone else, even Rae Rae, he’d have shoved her away.

“Do you want to?” She blushed and her cheeks were nearly as red as her hair. “With me I mean? Like dance? You do that right? I wasn’t sure if Heaven taught you all how to do that.” She giggled a little, breaking the tension between them. “I mean, Rae Rae’s super enthusiastic, but she’s not…do you know how?”

“I don’t usually,” he admitted, staring at the floor. “Rae Rae said it could…maybe you can do the hard stuff and I’ll focus on staying upright and swaying a little.”

He dared to look up at her, and she offered him a somewhat pained but still kind smile. Michael was perfectly aware after this afternoon that Lopez pitied him, and he resented it, but crumbs…any affection at all was so precious and rare, and he’d never had dignity anyway, at least not since the Fall, so what was one more concession to his self-esteem?

“Okay, no problem,” she said, snaking her hand on his shoulder instead around his waist and letting her other hand rest on his stronger shoulder.

At first, he felt awkward if only because the song was still an intense beat, but, eventually, the tracks changed to something slow and easy, and Ella pressed in closer, and part of him felt so good that he had to revert to the ultimate escape of thinking hard about Remiel’s shrill, annoying voice and her list of all the things she hated about him to keep his wings in. The erection was such a lost cause at this point, and this close up, Lopez had to know about that. Had to be feeling it, and he was not sure what the etiquette was for that.

Was he supposed to shuffle off now? Did he apologize?

Michael stilled, unsure of what to do until she leaned against his torso and smiled lazily up at him. “You’re doing fine, you know. It’s not like slow songs are that complicated. I just…feels nice.”

“It does?” And he did not yelp. He was once the Sword of God, and he was not freaking out. Nope, not at all.

She nodded against his chest. “Definitely.” Ella darted her head up one more time, green eyes glittering with ferocity. “But if you ever do that again instead of just, you know, asking me to dance on your own, I am so going to make you regret it.”

He laughed and held her closer. “I don’t doubt that, Lopez, not at all.”

**

The evening went well after that. Ella was already pretty drunk, to be honest, and her shoes were killing her. They made it through a handful of dances before she yawned and declared the night over. He’d let her go her separate way once they got to the living room and retired to his quarters.

The next day, she and Rae Rae continued to try and practice probing her abilities, while Michael went up to the penthouse to help Amenadiel research through Sam’s library. On the one hand, things were easier than Michael would have thought because Samael was at the miracle’s home, trying to patch up whatever bumps were in their relationship. Michael wasn’t quite sure what all was going on, but he’d definitely hit hard on Samael’s long term worries about making it work with even a blessed human.

Great, let his twin go and play out his soap opera.

Sam was hardly a researcher anyway.

However, and on the other hand, being with Menny was almost as bad. He wasn’t the type to be cutting or to attack, no. But the hour-long lecture about what Michael had done to Chucky (and he hadn’t made the kid sick or mortal for that matter. It was Amenadiel’s fault his child was a dud.) and the pontificating by his older brother weren’t better to sit through. Frankly, he’d almost rather Sam just punch him.

It didn’t take nearly as long.

But as the girls did their work below, he and Amenadiel researched for most of the day. Only when about five rolled around with basically no progress did the First Born look up from his research and explain he had to get Chucky from day care since Linda was still seeing clients till seven. Michael didn’t know what the fuck day care was, and he didn’t care. After eight hours of nothing and more nothing and trying to remember how to read Latin, he was fried anyway.

Besides, the sooner her could get out of the penthouse and avoid any chance Samael stumbled in was for the best. He and Amenadiel divvied up the useful books and agreed to keep researching, though separately tomorrow. Chucky had a follow up with a pediatrician or whatever, and, honestly, Michael could struggle through a giant Latin tome that wasn’t really helping in his apartment just as easily as he could next to Amenadiel and his endless sighing.

When he got back to his apartment, Michael set the current volume he was reading through on the island and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. He’d gotten a text around three from Lopez saying that Sam’s people had at least fixed some of the plumbing in the place so they could cook, and she would make something up tonight. That was something at least, wasn’t like he could cook. And he was _not_ ordering takeout, what a rip off that was.

Hopefully though, going forward, whatever practice they did, Ella wouldn’t burst every pipe in the building again.

Yawning a little and annoyed by the sluggishness of his right side, Michael went to his room. Maybe he could try a hot shower this time and get his muscles to stop cramping. Take advantage of the novelty of being able to notice temperature changes.

He yawned again and frowned at the bathroom. He’d left the door closed to it this morning, but maybe the plumbers had fixed it up and left the door open. He hoped so. If only the kitchen plumbing was fully fixed, that would be annoying. Sighing again, he reached up and yanked open the curtain to his shower, and his eyes grew so very wide as he yelped and jumped back.

_Lopez._

  
Damn it. His shower was fixed, and there was Lopez using it to clean off, and she was noticing nothing because she was facing the wall and he was getting an amazing view of her back and her hips and _everything_ as she wriggled around and rapped some chorus by a singer named _Monopolize_ , and “singer” was probably a term used loosely.

Michael swallowed hard and the spasm hitting his shoulders was intense and all-encompassing, but seriously, she should have put up a damn note!  
  


“Ella!”

She didn’t turn to face him but kept singing to herself and he was going to fall asleep every night with the whole sight of this burned into his brain.

“Ella!” he snapped again, and loathe as he was to do it, he let his walls down enough for the anxiety in the room to ramp way up.

Finally, she turned, gulped, then _screamed_ , and yanked the curtain back in place. “What the Hell?”

Michael was trying to answer, really he was, but now he’d seen the front of her naked and the suds sloping down her breasts and he was not really having any higher thoughts anymore.

“I…you were in my room!” he countered eventually even through his sluggish brain. “The plumbing is fixed, right?”

“Yours is and kitchen sure. Mine? Not so much, and I was tired and hadn’t showered after so much dancing and what even!”

“I didn’t know you were in here,” he countered.

“Duh, my phone’s on the sink. It’s how I’m broadcasting the music to my ear pods.”

“Yeah, I’m not from here so pretend I knew half of that sentence, cause that’s about what I got.”

She huffed behind the curtain. “Can you hand me a towel. I was basically done anyway.”

Michael finally remembered how to move and grabbed her a towel…or three and shoved them into her hand. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to wait or not, would it be ruder to run? It didn’t make him look too great, but she really should have just taped a note to the door or texted him first.

Finally, Ella stepped from the shower with a fluffy towel wrapped around her and, since she was so tiny, it more than covered everything from her chest to her mid-calf. Her hair, which was still red and that was apparently just gonna be a thing now, was swept up in some wrap on her head with a second towel, and Michael wasn’t sure how gravity allowed for that.

She frowned up at him and pulled small, white devices from her ears. “Sorry, I really didn’t hear you.”

“Obviously,” he said. “Again, I am sorry. I didn’t realize, and this was…can we forget about this one too?”

Ella chuckled nervously. “Sure, sounds great and---”

Then a traitorous drop of water from the shower ran down from her temple and over her neck and in between the beginnings of her cleavage, and Michael was just _done_. His shoulders twisted again, and he knew he wasn’t going to be able to keep his awful, pathetic wings at bay any longer.

Before she could finish, he hurried out to the living room and, deciding that he just didn’t want to deal with her following him, he eased out to the balcony and to the shadiest, darkest part under an overhang. With twilight nearing it would obscure enough. Michael didn’t fight his wings this time because he was fucking sick of this unfurling problem, but spent from a long day.

However, he did _not_ find this design funny at all, Dad.

His right one actually came first, which it never did since it was so broken, and it throbbed and burned now that it had been released.

Michael gasped and leaned against the wall even as his wings fluttered behind him. From the tension stretching through him, he knew it would be fucking hours before he’d be able to wrangle them back in. Stupid limbs.

Stupid fucking everything.

He stood like that for a while with his forehead leaning against the cool stone of the wall, even as the evening air grew breezy around him.

Then the balcony door slid open.

  
Michael groaned but pushed himself tighter into the corner and pushed his wings as far back behind him as he could. The right still mostly sprawled out, but he was doing the best he could to try and compensate.

“Hey, Mike? Did I do something besides be an idiot with ear pods?” she asked.

And he still wasn’t one hundred percent sure what that word meant.

He craned his neck to see her step out and round the corner of the veranda. Michael shook his head and held up his left hand. “Don’t, please.”

She stilled, probably because _please_ was not a word he used. Ever. At least not since the Rebellion. He’d spent years begging before that and had learned quite bitterly that the people you loved the most rarely listened to “please.” Sam certainly hadn’t.

Not when it mattered.

“Are you okay?”

He looked toward her and at least she was in long pajamas and no longer a towel. The damage was done, and he wasn’t going to be able to get his wings to relax for some time to come, but more clothes was better than less for now.

Maybe he could get her to wear a parka.

Or at least a bunch of turtlenecks.

Nope, bad thought. He started to imagine her in one of _his_ and only that and it made his wings flutter hardcore behind him.

Ella quirked her head at the noise. “I don’t understand. Are you mad at me? I really didn’t mean to be an idiot.”

Michael took a deep breath and finally found his words, even if his voice was strained as he spoke. “It’s not you, it’s me.” She laughed, and he felt anger rumble through him. Well, if he was just joke to her… “It’s not funny, Lopez.”

“Oh, I forget,” she said, blushing and her tone softening.

“What?”

“That you’re not really from around here, erm, Earth. I just…that’s an expression or a cliché for humans, and it’s always a line you get at a breakup.” Her eyes widened. “Not that we’re together and sorry, that sounds weird. I just…what’s wrong? Are you sick? You can get sick now, right? I can go get Lucifer if something’s super wrong.”

Michael took half a step forward but stopped before he exposed his wings to the recessed lighting on the balcony’s roof. “I’d rather just die, Lopez, and I’m not sick. It’s stupid.”  
  


“I’m all ears, though.”

He sighed and looked behind him and damn if the left wing especially wasn’t puffing up the most back there. “It’s my wings. They came out. I…it’s gonna be a while before I can put them back in.”

“They’re not hurt, are they?”

“No,” he said, his voice low. “Well, no more than usual so, yeah, Lopez, they’re pretty messed up.”

She started to step forward once more. “But you’re not having pain or spasms, right?”

“Not exactly. I just…it’s gonna take time to put them away.”

“You can come in. I mean I know wings are pretty huge, but it’s not like they’re so big you can’t come and chill on the couch, right? They’re not bigger than Lucifer’s or Amenadiel’s, right?”

“No, they’d fit.”

“Then, okay, come in. I was going to make some chicken molé. My abuelita has a great recipe, and I’m pretty sure you’ve never had it. It’s getting chilly out here anyway, stupid late fall.”

Michael stepped back fully into the shadows of the overhangs. “It’s fine, really.”

She frowned at him. “Dude, if this is about the shower thing, my bad. Besides, I know we’re, uh, gonna forget these two things, but it does kind of make us even. Great, we’ve seen each other naked. Really, you have to be hungry after all the book research. It’s fine.”

“I don’t want to come in.”

“Because of me?”

“No, I meant it. It’s me…well, my _wings_. I don’t want you to see them.”

“I don’t understand. I won’t go crazy because of them. Whatever I am, obviously if both Lucifer’s and Amenadiel’s didn’t make me go cuckoo for cocoa puffs, then yours wouldn’t Besides, I bet they’re fine. I mean, I’m kind of curious about the color. Are they sort of like an osprey’s color like Rae Rae’s? She showed me hers too today cause I asked.”

He glared at her, his eyes going gold despite himself. It at least made her stop talking. “I don’t want anyone to see them, Lopez. I don’t want to see them. When I kicked Samael out of the Silver City, he wrenched the right one badly and even yanked out clumps of feathers. It’s…they never really healed.”  
  


Or at all.

“Oh, I know you all…and your side…I just…I’m sure they’re fine.”

“They are not, and you wouldn’t know about wings. Not at all, no matter how many you see from my siblings or because you own a damn chicken.”

“We could leave Margaret out of this!”

“I’m serious, I…do you want many people to see your eyes when they change or other things?”

“Of course not.”

“Well, personally, I think it’s kind of cool, Lopez. But I know you feel about yourself, and I get it. So, yeah, that’s how I feel about my wings. They’re not…” He sighed and ran a hand over his face. “they’re literally the ugliest pair in heaven and I have hundreds of brothers and sisters. You don’t want to see them, trust me.”

She sobered and the look in her large, brown eyes hurt worse than even his right shoulder was currently aching. He was so dumb, so very dumb. She’d never see him without…pity was supposed to be better than Sam’s cruel jokes or most of the Host’s desire to ignore him. But when it was from Ella, when he felt like she never could…

It didn’t matter. Nothing had in eons.

“I’m sorry I pushed. Between us, I’m sure I’d like them---”

“You couldn’t,” he barked back at her, and his walls dropped again in his anger, and he wasn’t just adding to anxiety. In a desperate instinct to protect himself, he’d prodded at her fears without even meaning to, made her think about those fucking lilies and that cloying, hothouse smell. Ella jerked back and teared up, and Michael felt like shit. “I’m sorry,” he stammered, quickly. “It was an accident, really. I can’t stop it when I get upset and that’s why you…almost a hundred yards away is about you, Lopez, always was. I’m sorry. I just…they’re horrible, and I can’t yet.”

She took deep, shuddering breaths, and her gaze was glazed over and far away. He could feel the phantom pressure of hands around his neck, and damn it, the last thing Michael would have wanted if he could control it would be making her think about Pete.

“Lopez…Ella, are you okay?”

She finally snapped out of it, and his better than human at least senses could still hear her heart hammering away even if the scent of lilies was no longer there and he could breathe easily again. “You didn’t mean it. It’s okay…I…everything’s okay.” She offered him a false, plastic smile and nodded to the apartment. “I’ll get food started, and when your wings are put away---however that works---”

“It involves theoretical pocket dimension physics that Uriel understood but is so above my paygrade that I don’t care about it.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, so…sure, sounds good.”

“Right,” she said, and he didn’t miss how fast she scurried back to the apartment.

He sighed when she was gone and bumped his forehead repeatedly along the wall next to him. “Fucking genius, Michael, just genius.”

**

It took close to two hours even with as terribly as everything had gone for his wings to go away. He attributed that to anxiety and frustration more than actual lust because, seriously, having scared Ella so badly with memories of her abduction, even if it had been instinct and reactionary and _not_ deliberate…well, it was a true lust killer.

When he came in from the veranda, he found Ella curled up on the sofa, sleeping. He let his walls down and was relived that whatever she was dreaming about, it wasn’t a nightmare. Michael forced himself to push his power down as well as he could, even if that low-level anxiety always trailed him like his own dark cloud.

She rolled over on her side, and her blanket slipped down to her hips. Leaning over her, Michael adjusted the cover and brought it up to her chin. His breath caught in his throat. She really was the most beautiful thing his father never made, from her full lips to her rainbow of scarlet hair, and her soft, heart-shaped face.

And he was glad now that Samael had asked him his desires yesterday because he wasn’t confused any longer. He was hopeless and pathetic and in massive denial, but Michael knew at least part of what he wanted, and he wanted _her_.

And it had far more to do with dancing with her last night and her, yes, pity but still kindness on the balcony than it did from seeing her pleasant assets exposed in the shower this afternoon. She was so very fierce and kind and empathetic.

_So good_.

  
Michael desperately wished he deserved that in his life, but he knew he didn’t. That his father was playing games as He always did. There was always a catch or an angle. Michael had learned to think that way from someone, after all. Father would let this continue. After they figured her out and were uncoupled, it wasn’t like this could or would work out.

She was so very strong and powerful and probably part goddess.

And he was…

He’d _always_ been wrong, considering the way he could warp the fears of all around him, but he’d also been broken for so long on top of that. She deserved far better than he was, and Rae Rae wasn’t wrong about that.

Sighing, he turned to stand when Ella stirred. “Hey, you’re doing better.”

“It wasn’t a cold, Lopez, or that duck pox thing.”

“Chicken pox. How did you know about that?”

“Read a pamphlet when I was bored at Chucky’s doctor. Don’t ask.”  
  


“So not going to.” She frowned as she realized how dark everything was. “ _Rayos_ , I nodded off and it’s too late for me to cook tonight, not really.”

Michael quirked his head at her. “Well, _Lux_ has a happy hour and we can abuse Samael’s tab there again. I mean all the free food we can handle.”

“You just want to waste his stuff.”

“Got it in one, Lopez. Look get non-cartoon animals on, and we’ll head down there. I...everything about this messed up afternoon we can just forget, I hope. I’m sorry my powers…” he sighed. “I control them as best as I can. I never will be able to stop it sometimes, but I’d never use it against you like that. I was too anxious myself and it bleeds out.”

Ella nodded. “I figured once I calmed down. It was why I passed out here and not in my room. I wanted to talk to you when you came in. I respect your wings, okay? I know that you…I’d hate to show people that weird tongue thing, I would. It might get worse and I’d just…if Dan or Chloe or Linda saw, I’d _hate_ it. So I won’t ask about your wings again. I just…so you know,” she said, setting her palm over his right forearm. “I wouldn’t care, okay? We’re good, and I think you’re pretty great.”

“You don’t have to oversell the making up part, Lopez. I’m the biggest asshole in the Silver City.”

“Yeah, but you’re pretty fun anyway. So, to _Lux?_ ”

“To abusing Samael’s generosity with you,” he finished, winking at her and heading back into his room to grab his blazer.

**

“You know,” Ella said, chomping into a habanero pepper on her obscenely large plate of nachos. “I’d have thought you all would be more able to deal with the spicy and the picante.”

Michael shrugged. “First, not invulnerable currently. Second, I don’t really get the point in eating something that makes my eyes water. That just seems like masochism to me. Third, won’t you regret that later?”

Ella huffed as if he’d insulted her personal honor. Then she patted her stomach. Tonight, she was back in jeans and a novelty t-shirt. It had some blue, deformed bunny rabbit with six legs and said “Stay Weird” underneath. Michael couldn’t really argue the sentiment. Normalcy was far beyond anyone at their table currently or _Lux’s_ owner for that matter.

“Anyway, I was raised on so much spice, it’s not even funny. I mean, I even don’t mind some ghost peppers sometimes. When I was still at home, me and Ricardo would have spicy food contests, see who wimped out first.”

  
Michael snorted. “See, and that’s really got no winner. I don’t know much about humans, but I figure that’s not going to end well, kind of win the battle but lose that war about one a.m. and alone in the bathroom.”

“Uh no comment, but I can eat Ricardo under the table.” She bit into another chip. “This isn’t even that spicy. I should get Luce to add ghost peppers---just a few bits---to it. The Devil’s club should be super hot, you know?”

Michael didn’t respond at first but finished his sliders. He really didn’t give a shit what Sam did or didn’t do with _Lux_. His twin should be in _Hell_ ; that was the point of being punished. The whole place was just rubbing all the Host’s nose in it.

“Yeah, sure,” he finally added, since Ella was staring at him with the lull in the conversation.

“Ooh, so do you know how they like decide on the ratings on the Scoville scale for this? I mean, it’s all based around the heat from the capsaicin that comes in Chili peppers. You see the history’s really fascinating…”

Michael was more used to people nattering on than one might think. Not now because his siblings didn’t go near him and, okay, on Earth, the abandoned zoo was free to stay in but didn’t have anyone to talk to. However, he’d made the universe with Samael, who never shut up, and some things _never changed_. Also, he spent time in the Silver City when she popped up or in between on Earth with Azrael, and she was as big a chatterbox with Lopez. Michael could admit he could hold his own, but he didn’t mind listening and letting the torrents of info spill over him. He’d never personally given a rat’s ass about chili peppers one way or the other, but Lopez thought it was fascinating and she came alive on a bit of exposition or, okay, glancing at the clock in the corner of the club for _a lot_ of explaining.

“…and that was probably boring, huh?” Ella said, realizing how long she’d been going for and blushing too.

He felt that prickle of fear, like ice up her spine and his by proxy, and shook his head to reassure her. “No, it’s pretty interesting actually, gives me a whole list of types of peppers me and my mortal stomach will not be trying, so don’t even ask.”

“Wimp.”  
  


“Non-cast iron stomach so I’ll take my chances with just something cool and ranch flavored.”

Ella smirked and her fear receded. Good. He was tired of setting her off, and anything that made her think even vaguely of that little shit Pete and what he’d attempted was to be avoided. However, Michael wasn’t sure he liked that cat who ate the canary grin on her face either.

“What?”

  
“Nothinggg,” She sing-songed.

“No, it’s definitely something. Spill, Lopez.”

“That’s Lucifer’s favorite flavor too.”

“We don’t have much in common, I promise you.”

She quirked her head at him and studied him. He shifted under the scrutiny and with the flashes it gave him to how she must have examined specimens in her lab. “I dunno. You’re both kind of grouchy, not that big into hugging but at least try, and you’re actually really sweet deep down.”

“I am not.”

“You’re pretty good with me and Rae Rae.”

“Well, special cases then. Most people or angels I can take or leave, ask my brothers. I don’t have any great fluffy bunny feelings for little Chucky either.”

“Sure, whatever.”

“We’re not the same! I mean, I might have had a blip in my record. After literally billions of years of unquestioning service, I…okay we’ll say ‘tantrum’ is a fair word. Anyway, Samael had a Rebellion that got some in my family killed by rebels who went too far. Not Sam. I admit that, no. But he’s not that big on blood on his hands. I’d _never_ do that. He just never knows when to stop pushing. Despite my master plan that could have gone better---”

“You mean without you depowered and tied to me?”

“Could have gone worse too,” he finished, shrugging his good shoulder. “But we’re not the same. I mean, besides the obvious, and we just…I can see you angling for that common ground, you two should just reconcile angle already, chica.”

“I’m not!”

“Yeah, trust me, Azrael’s been after me on that since before there were humans. It’s not gonna happen, but for what it’s worth, I guess it’s noble you’re trying. Stupid but noble.”

She sighed and clicked her nails on the table. “I hate the fighting. It’s like my brothers Cesar and Alejandro. They never talk to each other. When we have Christmas or Easter…they just glare at each other across the table. It’s dumb.”  
  


“Why are they fighting?”

“A girl, big _mujer-_ stealing mess,” she admitted.

“Yeah, I think,” he said, gesturing to his right side with his good hand. “that I have a lot more I’m mad about, but honestly, even if it was just me who’d been ruined---”

“You’re not!”

“If it was just being injured,” he barreled on. “I wouldn’t hate Sam as much, but it was everything after. Dad and Mom made a mess first, but the Silver City…it never recovered. I hate how it felt after and how it is now, and Sam did that by just not listening.” Michael sighed and sipped his beer. “I knew you know.”

“Huh?”

“I could always read him so well and how he _bluffs_. I knew before even he did where that was all going. I spent years, by mortal standards, but _years_ trying to talk him out of Rebelling. But you can’t tell Samael anything, never could. I just…I don’t think Mom would have sent the Great Flood if Dad hadn’t already damned my idiot brother, so then she got damned and domino effect. I can’t forgive that.”

Ella sighed. “Your mom didn’t like humans, huh?”

“As far as I’ve heard from Sam and Amenadiel, she’s still not a huge fan.” He finished his drink and quirked his lips at how she’d deflated. “Sorry, I’m good at bursting bubbles. The Lucifer you know and the brother I can’t stand are pretty different, and I can’t…the Rebellion ruined my family. It was, as Azrael puts it, a big freaking deal.”

“He’s trying now and---”

“He may very well be, but sometimes there’s too much water under the bridge, Lopez. Maybe your brothers will get over the girlfriend stealing though. That sounds more mundane.”

She nodded and pushed her plate of nachos away. Yeah, he had that effect on people, that whole loss of appetite thing. “I shouldn’t have mentioned Lucifer, huh?”

“I can get you’re friends. I think he’ll disappoint you eventually, but I can’t really throw stones on that and also, I get it. Samael’s very charming. There’s a reason he’s the favorite.”

“Was, right?”

“Yeah, sure, let’s go with Catechism there. I dunno. He got relieved of his punishment as far as Amenadiel says, and he has a little girlfriend hand-made by Dad, more than the usual way,” Michael clarified. “I’d say he’s _still_ the favorite.”

“Maybe,” Ella said. “But maybe not. _Mamí_ always says she has no favorites, that it all just grows with the family.”  
  


“Must be nice,” he said, and then he didn’t say anything for a long time.

Ella stood up eventually and grabbed his left hand in hers. “So, my bad for bringing the whole conversation to a big implosion. Boom! But you wanna dance? You did fine last night, and it was…I really enjoyed it.”  
  


He brightened at that, despite the way talking about Samael tended to dampen his mood in general. “Sure, Lopez, I could manage it.”

Michael followed her out to the dance floor and let her take the position she had last night, with her arm around the right side of his waist and her other hand on his good shoulder. The first few songs were really faster than the tempo they were swaying at, and it was probably an awkward sight. No, _scratch that_ , Michael knew himself well and he was positive it was awkward as hell. However, he found he didn’t mind since he was with her. Eventually the DJ put on something with a slower beat, and Ella snuggled up closer to him.

That now familiar warmth flared through him and his slacks grew tighter, but his wings were too tired to even tense under his shoulders, and Michael was grateful for small favors. He swayed with her through two slow songs and on a third in a row (and Sam at least had managed to book the best DJ ever tonight), she looked up at him after resting her head for a while on his chest.

He gathered that if they were closer in height to each other, she’d have set her head on his shoulder like most of the couples around them, but they were not exactly evenly matched there.

“See, totally nice. I…I mean for now I’m on medical leave from work. They made me take one, and I have to get a psych eval in a few weeks, you know? So this is like the weirdest staycation ever.”

  
“Being tied by God to an angel you barely know?”

She wrinkled her nose up at him. “I think I’m getting to know you well enough, Mikey.”

“Maybe,” he said, “or maybe not. But it’s not as bad as I thought it was going to be.” He paused at that and added. “Okay, a fuckton more awkward, but you’re not unpleasant to be trapped with Lopez. Congratulations.”

She rolled her eyes but leaned up toward him, and Ella would never really get close enough to him on her own and she couldn’t possibly intend to kiss him, could she?

Part of Michael figured that was a terrible idea because then Samael would rip his wings off. On the other hand, Sam could go fuck himself, since this wasn’t any of his twin’s damn business.

Even if she’d slept with him first.

So had the rest of the state. It wasn’t what mattered, Michael assumed.

Ella was here now, and Sam could shove it.

But maybe he was just guilty of wishful thinking. Nervous he was wrong, that this wasn’t why she was leaning up at all but still curious, Michael leaned forward and met her lips with his own. Ella started first, closed that final gap and her kiss was tentative and sweet at first. And Michael hoped he was doing it right. Again, he’d caught some human entertainment before. He’d kissed Chloe Decker but must have fucked that up somehow cause she’d _known_ from the off he wasn’t Samael, who was of course the most sexually experienced being on the planet.

But Ella didn’t break away or complain or say this was a mistake, so Michael took it as a sign he was doing fine this time around.

Then she curled into him more and darted out her tongue.

_Oh, and that’s what I fucked up…_

He should have paid more attention to humans in general or TV because he hadn’t realized this part, and that would explain a lot about accidentally tipping off the miracle so fast. Michael was startled at first, too, by the intrusion, but her tongue was soon teasing his own, and it felt so incredibly good. Desperate to get her even closer to him, Michael dropped his left hand lower from the small of her back and to the curve of her ass, just so he could help angle her up more.

Damn height difference.

Ella shuddered at the sudden grasp and kissed him harder, and Michael wasn’t sure where this was all going, but they were probably going to have to leave the dance floor soon because sure this was _Sam’s club_ , but there were probably laws and health codes and things they’d most certainly be violating if they went as far as Michael wanted to go now.

Ella moaned against his mouth, and he responded by breaking away from his mouth long enough to move his lips to the crook of her neck and nibble against her collar bone.

“Michael,” she mewled, and he would be dragging them to the elevator ASAP.

Or he would have been if, pardon the pun, all Hell didn’t break loose then.

Because the building did start to rattle and shake the way it had when Ella had practiced a couple of days ago. Michael heard the same grinding of pipes and the splashing of water behind him. Ella was still moaning against him, but he broke away and put his good hand on her shoulder.

“Hey, Lopez, are you okay?”

She blinked up at him with snake-like eyes and, huh, okay the fangs were a new addition along with the tongue. One thing at a time.

“What?” she asked, her voice still holding a dreamy, far away quality to it.

The building shuddered again and at least four humans ran from the bathroom. Okay, dramatic much? Yes, he was sure sewage exploding forth was far from pleasant, but it wasn’t the end of the world. The one running the fastest, stopped near them and at the bar.

“What the fuck!” the blonde shrieked at whichever bartender was on staff tonight. “There are _snakes_. I mean, literally coming up from the plumbing.”

Ella snapped out of her lust and blinked up at him with wide eyes, and he would _not_ have had to be the Angel of Fear to feel the terror pouring off of her in wave after wave. It was as noxious as ever, and he doubled over with it.

“Lopez, wait, give me a minute to think,” he said, even as she kept backing away from him. Damn and his whole stomach was cramping with the effort to filter through her phobias and fear of herself. Turning around to the human from the bathroom, he grilled her a little. “What do you mean snakes?”

She glared at him but must have realized by his scar that he wasn’t Sam and thus not technically responsible for this mess. “Snakes, like slithery snakes? Text your brother or whatever, there’s at least a dozen in the bathroom from the sinks and toilets. It’s the craziest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Michael was about to ask if she’d also tried any hallucinogenic substances this evening when the spewing geyser that had been the seltzer water hose at the bar choked up for a minute and seemed to reduce to a trickle…

…as a small, black snake slithered from it.

_What the fuck?_

Michael really hated doing the next thing, but this was all going crazy, and apparently real and tied to Ella, and he needed help with that.

_Dear Lucifer and Amenadiel, we have a problem at_ Lux _. Get here as fast as you can. Ella might have caused a mess._

He turned back into the crowd and started looking for Ella. Now the snakes weren’t just theoretical and relegated to the bathrooms, oh no. Some had made it as far as the club floor and humans were screaming and running for the exits. He ignored them and pushed his way as best as he could toward the back of the club where Ella had taken off to.

There were just so many humans, and he was tall, but there was a stampede of them and there! He caught a flash of her vibrant hair and hurried as fast as he could, even if that was a qualified term when applied to him, to Ella.

When he got there, he grabbed her by the arm and yanked her to him. Ella’s eyes were wide, and she was shaking so hard. If anything her fear was more than before, and Michael thought he might vomit at the onslaught of it, the intoxication no longer in such an experience since he cared about Ella and didn’t…who would want someone they liked to feel like _this_?

“Lopez!” He shouted, trying to get her out of her shock. “Ella!” Michael shook her softly. “Hey, can you hear me?”

“I did thisss,” she said.

Obviously so, but he figured pointing that out to her now wouldn’t help her calm down. “Samael and Amenadiel are coming. I called them. You just need to breathe.”

By the door, a woman screamed, and Ella instinctively looked toward the noise along with him. It drew their attention to the large snake, and Michael was pretty sure it was an anaconda from Dad knew where because he’d seen that one movie with Jennifer Lopez on cable while bumming around Sam’s apartment before. If it wasn’t that, it was still easily the biggest snake he’d ever seen.

“I did that too,” Ella said.

Michael gripped her tightly. “It’s okay…Samael and Amenadiel will figure this out and---”

Ella yanked away from him hard enough that he lost his grip and tumbled forward, left unsteady by her motion. He fell into a bar table, and again, _fuck you, Sam_ , but it took a while before he could right himself on an unsteady right leg.

When he looked up, Ella was gone.


	6. Beauty in the Breakdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael, Lucifer, and Amenadiel struggle to clean up Lux after Ella's episode. Eventually, Michael decides to start Ella off with some sparring and training...

**Beauty in the Breakdown**

Michael barely had time to process the fact that Ella was gone and had probably run out of _Lux_ before a crushing grip grabbed his _bad_ shoulder. He fell to his knees and bit his lip hard to keep himself from shouting in pain and giving Samael the satisfaction.

His brother released his hold but circled him to look straight into Michael’s eyes, and his twin’s were blazing crimson.

 _Great, always worth it to piss off the Devil_.

“What did you do?” Sam demanded.

“Nice to see you too, Brother,” Michael choked out. “I didn’t do anything!”

“My club is flooding again and why are there snakes everywhere?”

There was a gust of wind and the flutter of feathers and soon enough Amenadiel was there too and standing off to Michael’s left, a flash in his peripheral vision but soon enough someone who’d at least been smart enough to put the wings away too.

“Michael, where’s Ella?” Amenadiel asked.

He glared at both. “The implication here is that I hurt her. I can’t even be untied from her!”

And he’d no sooner said that than Lopez popped back into reality next to Amenadiel and stumbled forward. Michael got up as quickly as he could and shuffled to her. It hadn’t hurt him to be teleported back to her lab the one time he’d tried the limits of their tether, but it had been disorienting. That was with being a (mostly) Celestial. Ella looked worse for wear. She was doubled over and dry heaving. Worried, Michael steadied Ella up with his left arm even as she shook in his embrace.

She blinked up at him, and her eyes were as they’d been---green and slitted. Everything was still _different_ because she soon leaned over and vomited onto the floor beside them. Michael was only disappointed it didn’t hit Sam on those fancy, red-soled shoes of his. But as she retched, it was obvious that the, uh, fairly new fangs and the serpentine tongue were still in effect.

“Shh, chica,” he said, trying to go for comforting as he patted her on the shoulder. “You’re okay. I got you.”

She finished barfing, and he helped ease her to the nearest banquette. Luckily, kind of, someone had left a half-finished soda on the table. He shoved it to her, so she had something to help rinse her mouth out and gave her something to do with her hands too.

Ella drank it down greedily and then looked between him and his brothers with wide, worried eyes. And Michael redoubled his efforts to block her fears. He was already getting Menny’s confusion and general anxiety as well as Sam’s recriminations at himself and fear of what else Father was pulling.

Michael didn’t need all of this at once; he just needed to be able to concentrate on Lopez.

“Hey,” he said, keeping his voice quiet and calm. The way he had back in the Silver City to pick up the slack after the Rebellion and comfort Rae Rae when Gabe and Uri were being cruel to her. “are you okay?”

She shook her head and grabbed the only other bit of drink on the table, a half a Guinness, and chugged that too. “I…shit I’m dizzy.”

“Yeah, the snap back isn’t fun,” he admitted. “I guess cause you’re not an angel too that the motion sickness is more for you than me. I just…do you need anything? I can grab a bottle of whatever from the bar.” He looked back in that direction and tried very hard not to react to several snakes slithering across its top. “Do you want that?”

Ella had made the mistake of glancing at the bar with him and was now crying hard. Silently, but with tears streaming down her cheeks. “What did I do?” she gulped.

Sam was next to him then, and Amenadiel was flanking his other side.

“Miss Lopez, are you alright?”

“Sure, I’m a hundred percent,” she said, and then looked down at the table when her tongue flared out on the “c” in percent.

Samael was a good actor and unflappable, probably came with running Hell. He’d seen everything rancid or scary or awful in Creation, none of which applied to Ella, but Michael could tell from the way her fear curdled in his gut that Ella felt that way about herself anyhow. However, Sam just offered her a kind smile and used a napkin to dab at the corners of her mouth.

“Miss Lopez, sod the club. I can get it fixed up, albeit that might take a bit longer now than a day. Also, some bits of liturgy are true enough, and I have an affinity for snakes. I can get them herded up fast enough.”

Michael quirked his head at his twin. That he thought was only a rumor.

_Dear Lucifer, really, Brother?_

Sam’s eyes flashed at him. _Dear Michael, can you not be an utter prat for five seconds? First, yes and second, just pay attention to Miss Lopez, please_.

For once in millennia, Michael took his twin’s advice. He let his brothers head to the bar where he assumed Amenadiel was going to try and grab a broom and flail till Samael did whatever it was the Devil did with serpents. Michael couldn’t really crouch, but he could lean against the table and get closer to eye level with Ella.

“Hey, are you okay?”

She was still crying, but she was able to answer, so he took that as a better sign. “Not really. I don’t think I’m going to be okay for ages,” and she shoved her hands over her mouth when her tongue poked extra on the end of her sentence.

Michael set his hand on hers and squeezed it. “You know, this place is a wreck. Sam and Menny are going to have to take some time to get _Lux_ taken care of. We’ve been bumming around here for a few days anyway, and I think your instinct were right. You need fresh air, chica.”

“What if I just have a trail of snakes after me?” she asked.

“Well, I’ll try not to make out with you, which my bad since I didn’t realize that would trigger anything.” Considering all his terrible luck with his wings and arousal, maybe he should have clued on that as a possibility too, but Michael was mostly new to lust so sue him. “I have a place, okay?”

“I swear to your dad, if it’s the zoo---”

“It’s not, and everyone’s a critic,” he huffed, offering her his left hand, and helping her to her feet.

She leaned into his side, and Michael wasn’t sure if she’d be able to go further without his support or not. And, really Father, she was so tiny. Ella was always bubbling with energy, so it was easy to forget it, but now Lopez felt especially fragile tucked into his side. As they neared Samael, who was currently laughing at Amenadiel’s less than stellar attempt just to whack the snakes with a broom.

Michael coughed to get his twin’s attention. “Samael, do you have this covered?”

His brother leaned over and whispered to them both. “Assuredly so. I’ll wave a hand and get them all sent back to wherever they’ve come from. Some advantages of all that serpent association from the Garden, after all. It’s just amusing to watch the First Born fumble. You should see him chase chickens.”

That stirred Ella a bit to look at Sam and speak. “Wait, do I want to know?”

“Amenadiel and animals do not mix well, _hermana_. Now, about you, Miss Lopez, do not fret about any of this. I can have it handled. I prefer you stay here where I am, but I also have other estates in the area---”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Oh, I bet you do, you showy---”

Ella set a hand on each of their chests, and Michael tried not to be upset at the closeness between her and Samael. “Okay, I so do not have the spoons tonight for which one of you is more pissed at the other. We’ll call it a draw. I…Luce, I just need some air. I have all my stuff here and Margaret, but I could use some space for a few hours before we come home.”

Samael eyed him, evaluating his worth, Michael was sure. “If that’s what you wish. Can you drive, Mikey?”

“It’s been a while, maybe when I was in Chicago after World War II on business for Father.”

“That’s a no then, as far as my cars are concerned,” Sam replied. Touchy, as always. It wasn’t like his twin couldn’t replace whatever, and Michael wouldn’t try and crash a car on purpose or anything.

“You are clearly too shattered to drive, my dear,” Sam said, considering Ella. “Do I need to---”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Brother,” Michael said, pulling out his phone. “I can call an Uber. I have been around L.A. long enough to figure that out. We’ve got this.”

“Very well, then.” Sam focused on him only and added. _Dear Michael, where are you headed?_

_There’s a spot on a public beach I like, thank you very much. I promise no zoos or any place beneath your august standards, Dear Lucifer._

Samael nodded his head briskly and then offered Ella a beaming smile. Reaching out, he stroked her hair back over her shoulder. “Then, you have a good time with my ne’er-do-well of a twin. If he gives you any trouble, well, I’ve access to many weapons, just let a chap know.”

“No way, dude.”

“A joke,” Sam countered. _Oh sure, just a big old joke from the Devil. Sure._ “I understand having one’s powers be uncontrollable for a time. I can keep fixing this whole building as much as you need to deal with this. It’s no bother at all.”

Behind him, Amenadiel struggled with a snake curling around his arm, and, alright, Sam was right and that was hysterical. Michael snickered to himself at the sight.

“I’m sorry…I…”

Samael leaned down and kissed her forehead. “No trouble at all, Miss Lopez. You relax and work on calming down. I’ll Pied Piper these scaly miscreants away before one can blink.”

She giggled at that and as he pulled away from her; Michael desperately wanted to punch something. Namely Samael. “Cool, I…” She gestured to her face. “I’m sorry. I’m sure I can get thisss under control.”

“Oh _hermana_ , you should see mine,” Sam replied, letting his eyes go red. “We’ll trade looks tomorrow, perhaps, or I’ll more accurately show you all of mine if you’d like. I don’t think it’ll terrify you the way it tends to bowl over actual mortals.”

Ella’s face fell at the blunt reminder that whatever she actually was, that _mortal_ probably wasn’t it. “Oh, maybe? I just…you don’t think I look bad?”

“You are as lovely as any deity I’ve ever met. I’m sure you’d leave half of the goddesses out there green with envy,” Sam added, picking up her right hand and kissing the back of it. “So, don’t ever fret on it.” He stepped back even as the First Born continued to flail behind him. “Well, no need to tarry. Have a good time.”

Michael nodded and headed out with her to the street.

Would that he’d been a bit more circumspect and blocked his brother’s prayer but that really wasn’t something the Host could do with each other, would have made them vulnerable long ago in battle, back when there were still other pantheons to contend with.

_Dear Mi, if you upset her at all---_

He sighed as he arranged for the car to come and pulled her closer to him. _Dear Sammy, you have my word for once and had it in your showy, ridiculously over top and way too reflective penthouse. If I hurt her, I’ll let you take both wings._

**

The spot he knew wasn’t anything special.

There were miles and miles of public beach. Actually, as they settled in the dunes, Ella informed him all the state was comprised of public beaches. Then, she relayed the highlights of one of her cases, being nice enough to leave a mostly-Devil shaped hole in it. The idea of Espinoza trying to infiltrate a surf gang (Dear Father, California was weird) made Michael double over in belly laughs.

It was a nice chance of pace.

This spot on the beach he’d actually found because a food truck nearby caught his attention with a Taco Tuesday special of three crab tacos for a dollar. At the time, Michael figured it was “special” because the meat was on the cusp of expiration, but he’d been invulnerable then and thirty cents or so was an impossible price to beat. So that had settled it. That first day at his stretch of beach, he’d collected his bounty that day and sat by the beach, watching the tide go out.

It had been peaceful.

So, he figured if Lopez needed some grounding, then she could get it here.

She was curled up at his side and had grown quiet after her story about Espinoza and surfing misadventures.

“Lopez, look, if I were Menny, I’d have a great platitude. If I were Sam, I’d probably buy you a literal pony.”

“Dude, don’t want a horse. What would I do with it?”

“Knowing you? Keep it in our kitchen,” he said, setting his chin on her head and enjoying the scent of her shampoo, it was something floral, maybe layered with lavender, and it pleasantly tickled his nose. “But joke’s probably on you because I’m neither.”

“ _Pues_ , I don’t need a pony or a new car or a video game or much of anything.” She considered that and frowned up at him. “Well, maybe some toys for Margaret.”

Father help him, he was _never_ going to understand the bathtub chicken thing. “I’ll let Samael know through that angel grapevine we have.”

“Is that a thing?”

“No, but I can text,” Michael said, annoyed a little when an uptick in the wind blew his bangs in his face. Curls were fine; he didn’t care much and not pretending to be Sam meant he could just let them do whatever and save time. And the cost of product. However, on the windy beach, his hair was flopping in his eyes and growing annoying. He tried to ignore it. “So, you don’t want any well-meaning aphorisms either?”

“No.”

“Then what do you need?”

“I want it to stop,” she said, shivering against him. “I need this to _stop_!”

Michael sighed and rubbed her back with his left hand. “It won’t. If anything, it’s accelerating. Look, Lopez, I’ll just be blunt with you since that’s what I am good at. This is gonna get worse before it gets better. I think you’re making the tide come in pretty far because it’s jumped up at least two feet since we got here, and that’s probably not typical.”

“Fuck!”

He nodded and held her close to him even as she tried to pull away. “That said, I can tell you that Dad’s punishment aside, I’d be here with you no matter what. I _am_ here with you, and this sucks, but I’m not going anywhere.”

He felt it again, that noxious, piercing spasm in his gut as her fear hit a crescendo. Michael was brought back to her nightmare about coming into the station and changing and tearing the three of them apart, but this time there was something large and snake-like in her place. Michael swallowed hard and shoved his walls up high until the nausea and cramps passed, and it only felt like that reading her fears now because since he cared for Ella so much, those fears tore him apart almost as much as they did her.

“Nope, won’t leave at all.” He added.

The tide came in suddenly with a resounding crash and soaked his shoes. Not hers cause she was still curled up, and he was a few feet closer to the sea. Fuck it; that was the least of his problems.

“You should. You so so should,” she said, her tongue flickering out and she slammed her mouth shut, and the vision raced through her mind again, which then forced him to ignore the pain roiling through his gut, to try and compartmentalize it.

Even if it tore at him.

He leaned down and eyed her earnestly. “I’ll pass. I’m pretty damn stubborn. It’s one of the only other things I share with Samael. So, if I’ve decided to stay right next to you and not even take the 99.9 yards head start, then I’m going to do just that, chica.” He smiled at her, even though he knew it came off more as a grimace, especially considering the scar cut into his face. “Okay, so it went downhill, but I liked kissing you very much, Lopez.”

She stilled then and a slight blush came to her cheeks. If anything, her eyes seemed brighter then too, almost hypnotic in their verdant glory. “Yeah, well, we’ve established that’s a terrible idea, a non-plan.”

Michael let his hand play with the ends of her vibrant hair. “For now, maybe. Maybe not. I forgot that extreme emotions can be good ones. I haven’t felt them in a long time, some maybe never.”

“Oh.”

“But we’ll figure out both ends then, and Amenadiel has a bunch of tomes to research. He’ll unravel this, narrow down where you come from. He’s very boring but also a good scholar. Go figure.”

She nodded and stared out to the tide. Quirking her head, Ella raised her hand up and furrowed her brow. Michael gaped as the ocean receded not just back to the levels the tide at been at before but went into low tide and far from the beach. When Ella was done concentrating, she collapsed against him, breathing heavily.

“Okay, maybe that was too much work. I feel like I ran a marathon.”

He considered what she’d done and part of him had rarely seen anything as interesting. He and Sam had fashioned the seas in tandem, but part of him still thought of Lopez as human since that was how he’d met her. To see _her_ able to even begin to control the waves was awe inspiring. A smaller, more anxious part of him reminded Michael that his mother had controlled the seas once too.

And drowned the world that way.

He chased that away and chocked it up to the paranoia of surviving his family at all.

“Yeah, maybe we need to think practice through more thoroughly? Sam has to have beach front---and I know my twin, he has some somewhere---that might help. Cause water and you, chica? There’s a lot there to explore.”

She sighed. “It felt nice for like a hot minute.” Ella blushed and looked away. “This kiss, I mean. Technically, I’m usually attracted to total douchebags.”

“Then, Sam will be happy to tell you that I preserve a perfect streak, Lopez.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You haven’t seen every side of me,” he admitted. “But it was nice?”

“Yeah, of course. You’re a really good kisser, and you probably know that anyway and are fishing for compliments.”

Michael looked away from her and out to the low tide she’d created. “Shouldn’t have promised not to lie to you; lying’s easier.”

“Is it? All your bullshit got us lashed together to begin with and you’re basically mortal now.”

“Point, but I…look, I don’t know if I need to draw a fine point for you, but all the Host are siblings. I have spent most of my life in the Silver City _with my family_. Do you get it? Heaven’s not Arkansas, chica.”

She frowned at him, and then her eyes glittered with recognition. “Oh! I just assumed cause of Lucifer and even with Charlie around so Amenadiel…”

“I know, but they spent time on Earth. There are options. It might bug me most of all that my baby sister is ahead of me here, sort of a psychopomp benefit. She runs all over the planes.”

“Huh?”

“There’s an _actual_ Death. She’s one of the Endless, which we figure you are _not_. I’ll get that flow chart for you any day now. Anyway, the Angel of Death and actual Death have some on-and-off thing.” He shrugged his good shoulder. “Go figure.”

“Really? Rae Rae never tells me the good stuff. Good for her. Is Death nice?”

He chuckled. “She’s okay for an Endless, mostly. She has far crazier relatives, trust me. Almost makes my family seem normal.”

“Wow.”

“That’s about the shape of it.” He was surprised when she snuggled up closer to him. “Is that a pity cuddle?”

“No, but I didn’t…I really didn’t know. Then you’re an excellent kisser, a total natural.”

“Probably pale in comparison to Samael. I mean, that’s how his miracle knew.”

She frowned at him. “Wait, you kissed Chloe?”

“More or less a couple times; she was playing me. It’s for the best, I guess, but she knew the minute she kissed me the first time I wasn’t Samael.”

Ella smacked his arm, and it _hurt_. The jokes about bruising weren’t jokes anymore, and he’d have to tell Sam about that too. But that could wait till morning. “Well, duh, she knew. Deckerstar---”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Every epic ship needs a name!” she said. Michael shoved any idiot, stupid, completely asinine urge to think about what theirs would be aside. He was not a twelve-year-old human girl.

“Anyway, Decker was always going to know because they’re like this legendary, star-crossed saga thing, Mikey. Your plan? Kind of sucked.”

He considered her and leaned closer, so close that he could feel her cool breath on his chin. “I think it had good side effects. But I’m not exactly experienced, no. So, that’s a _huge_ difference between Samael and me. You’d notice.”

Ella yanked away from him and the waves out there grew choppy and white with froth. _Oh shit_. What the Hell had he said?

“Wait, hold on, record scratch here.”

“What?” he asked.

“I mean…you think I’ve had sex with Lucifer? Dude, no. He’s like my brother,” she frowned at that. “Sorry, I know the fraternal stuff is a sore point, but it would be like having sex with Jay or Ricardo. Hell no!”

Michael eyed the ocean that was growing even choppier with a modicum of trepidation. _Note to self, do not piss Ella off_. “I just assumed---”

“Well, you made an ‘ass out of u and me,’” she fired back. “Okay, once Lucifer asked me if I’d like to, maybe a few weeks after I transferred to the station. It was…for a few minutes I did think about it, almost followed him to this totally gnarly mattress at the crime scene we were at.”

“Sam would do that,” Michael sniffed. And his twin made fun of his nice, dry, mostly clean zoo. The hypocrite.

She pressed her hand to his cheek, and Michael almost bolted at the intrusion. It was still…there were a lot of scars on him now, all from Samael, and none he wanted her to experience. His face was ruined, and he wasn’t sure why she’d bother at all with the ugly red line on his cheek.

“Michael, I never did. We’re not like that.”

“That’s probably a big sign originally you were never human. If that’s even a hint of what someone desires---and so many people want Samael, he’s desire incarnate the way I’m fear---then they say yes to him. It’s just so hard to resist him at all.”

“Oh, well, it was this flicker, and he’s been like my best bro since. I’ve worked so hard to get him over his hang ups and together with Chloe.”

“Okay, maybe a sore subject a little,” Mike said.

“But, no, I…were you jealous?”

“Some,” he admitted, and it would be so much easier lying to her.

She stroked his cheek. “No, I never did. Not that it should matter.”

“Oh, it would have.”

“But,” she continued, even as she flashed a bit of fang at him, and he was sure Ella hadn’t realized she’d done that.

His shoulders tensed in a good way, and huh, well that was a new fact about him, wasn’t it? She was almost as alluring this way as she was as a lab geek. Dear Father was he such a sap.

“But what?” he prodded.

“But,” she repeated. “it’s pointless, right? I get worked up and random snakes. Not okay!”

He set his forehead against hers and sighed. “We’ll figure it out. Besides, at least Samael has one thing about him that’s accurate from the Bible. Snakes? He’s got that covered.”

“Ugh, and I’m so hideousss and---”

He kissed her then, and she slammed her mouth shut at first. Michael shouldn’t have pressed further, maybe, but he couldn’t resist. He slid his tongue in, and eventually she responded, her serpentine tongue feather light and flexible against his own. It fluttered and tickled and was different. Hell, avoiding accidentally piercing his now vulnerable tongue on her fangs was a new trick too. Michael was so eager that he definitely miscalculated once and cut the tip of his tongue on her right eyetooth, erm, fang.

Michael broke off the kiss, and the sea had changed again, was calm and serene under the waxing moon.

Ella blinked up at him. “You stopped?”

He stuck out his tongue and looked at his lap. “I wasn’t sure…accident? Not going to bleed on you, even I know that’s rude.”

“ _Rayos_ , you have to be kidding me.”

Michael reached out and pulled her to him, burying his nose in her hair for a moment and steadying himself with that hint of lavender there. Then, he spoke, “I just figured you wouldn’t like it.” He sighed and pressed his hips against hers since she’d migrated to his lap. “Trust me, I liked everything just fine.”

“Oh!”

He nodded. This attraction to this side of Ella was, to be fair, unusual for him. He’d never thought anything about other pantheons before, but he’d usually been battling them to the death and in the heavenly plane to boot. It didn’t usually engender lust, pretty much the opposite, considering how sterile and static the Silver City was.

No wonder his brothers had settled here, and Rae Rae stayed around earth more than she had to for her duties.

“Yeah, you’re amazing, Lopez. Plus, you went from choppy, stormy waves to tranquil sea while kissing me and after I apologized for assuming you’d, you know…” _Banged Sam_.

“Been like half the station and most of L.A. Yeah, no,” she said, smirking up at him. “That’s good then, right?”

“Yeah, progress, so maybe if we kissed more, you’d get better at calming down and no snakes and no waves?”

She stuck her tongue out and man his shoulders should not tense up that much even as his dick strained against his slacks. Seriously, why had Dad even made them this way? It was just distracting was what it was.

And embarrassing as fuck.

But he almost didn’t care. Almost. Because then Ella was back in his lap fully, and her tongue was tangling with his, and the Sword of God saw that it was good.

**

The next day was based around moving. Samael handled all of it, except the part where Michael had to ride with Ella and Margaret out to one of Sam’s homes in Malibu---because of course Sam had at least one, and Michael had called it. Still, the mansion (what else) was near the water, secluded enough to deal with any of Ella’s bigger _oops_ moments, and bonus there were enough bathrooms for the chicken to get her own. It wasn’t perfect because he still hated having to live on Sam’s dime and mercy, and Lopez was a ball of anxiety over everything, but it was a better space for them to work with her powers. Meanwhile, back at his baby momma’s, Amenadiel was working on the research. Samael had agreed to reach out to any otherworldly contacts who’d passed through the Hellish plane about ideas, and dear little Azrael was quizzing her sometimes girlfriend Death about Ella’s symptoms too.

Michael, of course, was charged with taking care of Lopez and, you know, taming powers that he didn’t understand yet. Ones that carried some serious destructive weight and that he might have been a better match for with decent wings, his invulnerability and strength (and _that_ was short-sighted, Father), and any real fluency with his Demiurgic side.

Which he hadn’t used in billions of years.

So far, the practice hadn’t been too hard, had amounted to lounging on Sam’s beach (in effect) and having Ella practice with the waves and the tides. But she’d done more, made literal snakes appear and water burst from pipes, and Michael suspected there was even deeper strengths buried there that would be best to understand sooner rather than later.

Oh, and the strength.

They were currently sitting in her bedroom, and Ella was stroking Margaret the chicken like he had thought humans usually did for dogs and cats only. Ella was petting Margaret in a desperate bid for stress relief. Since she might have, just a little _crushed_ the handle on the fridge this morning.

The stainless steel one.

Margaret was glaring at him, and Michael wasn’t sure if he should take offense or not. As far as the chicken had seen, he was normal. He had no idea if barnyard fodder could sense the otherworldly, and she still seemed to be friendly with Lopez, so maybe Margaret just didn’t like guys. At least his wings---tilted as one was---were nicer than hers.

Chickens couldn’t even really fly at all.

“Lopez, your chicken is staring daggers at me.” He held up his left arm and the bandage still wrapped around it. “She’s not gonna go back for seconds, is she?”

“Margaret’s nice! She’s a great chicken!” Ella objected opening her arms up and letting Margaret out of her arms. The chicken puffed her feathers up, squawked once at him, and stalked off to her bathroom, leaving a few molting feathers behind her. Oh joy. “She’s the best chicken here.”

Michael smirked at her. “I thought we established you were the best chicken for now until we had an actual name for what you are.”

“I wish I was just a chicken. Thisss sucks,” Ella replied, her tongue flicking out protractedly as she spoke.

Her changes, as Michael had guessed, were accelerating. The strength this morning was only part of it. The skin around her temples was turning red, not an angry burn like his brother’s, but a brick color and the skin still smooth, if a little dry. He’d noticed the same hints of red on the backs of her hands as well this morning in the kitchen.

Offering her his best smile (or lopsided grimace, Michael figured it was all a point of perspective), he reached out and took her left hand in his. The red was now all over the back of her hand and starting to bleed into her palm side as well. The skin was dry and textured almost, like scales. Nothing unpleasant (and in some ways, Ella still didn’t know how much worse things could get) but clearly new for her. She tried to pull her hand back, and he opened his fingers up but narrowed his eyes at her at the same time.

“If you don’t feel like this much contact, I get it. Believe me, no one shrinks back from touch more than the Angel of Fear, but if you’re taking your hand back because you think I’m upset or repulsed, chica, I’m not.”

She still yanked her hand back and then hid them both in her lap. “Or I could end up crushing your hand!”

“Wouldn’t be the first one of mine to get ruined,” he replied. “Besides, I have my ways. I’m not technically invulnerable---”

“You’re not at all.”

“Well, no, but I have a way to heal. It’s not as convenient as it just automatically kicking in, believe me. But if something happened, Lopez, I could handle it.” He snorted. “Rae Rae wasn’t kidding about years of me fighting a giant Norse wolf god. That one gave as good as I did back. I seriously doubt, even now, you’re as bad as Fenris.”

“I know but you’re---”

Michael couldn’t help his nature completely or his cynicism. He knew that he’d always been one to take crumbs and that currently he was doing that with Ella. She cared about him, but a huge chunk of that was pity too, and he lacked enough self-esteem (ha not even close) to pull away from her and that attitude of hers.

He sat up straighter and moved his right hand to rest on his thigh. It took some effort, but he could do it, damn it. He could fake things for a few hours at a time, but it just was so difficult that it wasn’t worth it unless there was a reason to.

Michael always paid for the efforts later.

“I’m not _helpless_ , you know,” he groused.

She frowned at him, and he figured she was thinking back to him trapped on his brother’s floor, like a turtle on its back and unable to push himself up. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You wouldn’t and make it stick. I’m serious about having access to a way to heal even if it’s not automatic now. But I was the Sword of God. Technically, Dad never relieved me of my post. I have led my brothers and sisters in battle against ancient, eldritch crap you still can’t imagine. I trained the legions for billions of years. You do get that, right? I mean, this is what I’ve been reduced to, and it’s pathetic, I grant you that, but I wasn’t always this way.”

“You’re not pathetic,” she replied, but she made no move to touch him.

Considering the mangled refrigerator handle, he could almost understand her caution, but he would have let her risk it.

He shrugged and sighed when his left shoulder was the only one to run with the motion. “Glad at least I’m better than ‘pathetic,’ chica.”

Ella leaned back on the headboard of her bed. “I hate this.”

“But you’re getting better with water, and there haven’t been any snakes. So those are good points.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, and they glittered with her frustration. It was a little scary to piss her off, but he’d be lying if it wasn’t hot too, and Ella had no idea how amazing she was. “Tell it to the fridge! Or if I hurt you cause I could hurt a lot of stuff…”

Michael nodded and shoved his ego aside. His twin would say for once, but then again Sam would be one to talk. “Well, regardless, other mystical beings can hurt angels. Even if I had all my abilities and wasn’t on probation, you would be a challenge, chica.”

“No duh!”

“But this,” he said, gesturing with his good hand to her. “Isn’t going to get better by hugging a chicken.”

“I know but---”

“You need to go out to the beach with me. It’s secluded because of course it is, and we can spar a little,” he said. Ella’s eyes grew wide, and she fluttered her tongue out a few times. Michael felt an uptick in her anxiety, and he shoved his good hand into the pocket of his blazer. He groaned a little at that. “I thought we were getting past that, chica. I can handle it, and I can get healed up if you go too far. You saw the damage Samael and Amenadiel helped make in the station. Well, I was the one who _trained_ them. Mostly. Some with Amenadiel since he was the First Born and had a head start. But I trained the heavenly legions. I’m sure I can train you too.”

“I don’t want to.”

“This isn’t going to clear up, and you’ll break more things without some actual help. Unless you want to mangle a gaming system or a doorknob or Margaret.”

Ella gasped. “I’d never!”

“Then, get up, Lopez. I’ll teach you a few things.” Michael got to his feet, and, as always, wished he could accomplish that a little more smoothly. It wasn’t going to sell his point to her if he seemed weak. “If you can make the tide come in or out reliably, you can do a round or two with the Great Judge. You game?”

“Okay, but if I hurt you…”

“I know a few things about combat,” he said.

And that, probably, was his undoing anyway. He was an old, used up soldier, but he’d been one for endless epochs, and Ella had never had fight training, he could tell. They’d see how it played out, but at least he could offer his experience. It was about all that was left to him.

**

Lopez stood on the sand. He’d gotten her to switch into clothes appropriate enough by human standards for sparring---her sneakers of course, and some stretchy pants but at least with more give than her jeans, and one of her t-shirts. This time, this one seemed to have some kind of frogs on its front with weapons and bandanas on their faces. Maybe they were turtles? She was like a pop culture repository, and he had no idea about most of what she referenced.…

Michael was in sweats and a plain grey t-shirt. His brother still was buying the pants a few inches too short, and ha-ha, how clever Samael. Michael wasn’t even shocked at that level of petty. But at least his clothes were functional enough. Odd not to train in the war robes of the Legion as he had years and years ago.

However, this would suffice.

Michael circled Ella. He was using the best of his concentration and effort to keep his limp to a minimum and himself moving. He could, with enough force of will and work, be normal for a time. It was how he’d slid into Sam’s life at all. He just couldn’t sustain it, but for training it was relevant and necessary, so he forced himself forward.

“Okay, Lopez, you follow my lead and do as I instruct. Is that understood?”

She nodded, her ponytail bobbing behind her. “ _Por supuesto_ , Mikey. Totally got it.”

“We’ll see,” he said, his tone grave, but he was not as grouchy as his usual. He was genuinely curious to see what Ella could do, and considering what she’d done to the refrigerator, he might have only an inkling of what she was capable of. “So, have you ever had any fight training at all?”

The smell of lilies was in his nose, and Michael took a few deep breaths to keep her fear from becoming his own.

He smiled and set his left hand on her shoulder. “I…right. Your instincts are good, for what it’s worth. Lopez, that sucked. What happened to you was fucking wrong, but you still won. Pete’s rotting in jail and waiting for trial, and it’s because you didn’t fully panic. You whipped out that needle and dug it easily into his neck. You saved yourself.”

“And what if he was still right? I mean look at me!” she said, her tongue flicking out, and Michael figured it wouldn’t help her sense of self one bit if he told her that he found her especially cute.

He opted to squeeze her shoulder instead. “Pete was blowing smoke in part because he wanted to make you as miserable as he was. Also, yeah, there’s something else to you, and we can both see it now. Pete? That lowlife wouldn’t have known the kind of probably demigoddess you actually are. He just wanted to think that everyone was as pathetic as he was. And you’re _not_. You’re _better._ ”

“Like you and Lucifer and Amenadiel are?”

Michael shook his head. “Not really. Angels are a fucked up bunch,” he continued. “If you’re another pantheon, you’re probably lucky, to be honest.”

“But?” she asked.

“But,” he continued. “You have good instincts in a fight. Most people crumble when they’re in a life and death situation. Yes, even the Host. I’ve had younger siblings not make it out of battle because they froze. It happens. You didn’t though.”

He dropped his hand and finished circling Ella, coming to stand a bit away from her, just enough to be in arm’s reach. If they were going to spar, that really wasn’t that far as she was so tiny. Her reach was going to be a deficit for her, despite her growing strength. Then again, as he glanced out at the ocean and watched the waves grow choppy, that wasn’t exactly all Ella had going for her for either.

But one skill at a time.

“So, any formal training? Take any karate as a kid, Lopez?”

“No, but my brothers were kind of rough. They taught me how to take care of myself on the street. I never really had to, but yeah, Ricardo was closest to my age, so he could be kind of a lot. Still, it was like _hermanitos_ slap fighting. It wasn’t a huge deal.”

“Okay, so we’re starting from scratch. I can work with that. You want to stand like this, with both feet pointing forward and one in front of the other. A mistake is to make the back right tilt out perpendicular. You want them both going the same direction in a stance.”

She nodded and he helped adjust her leg when she still, on instinct, had the back foot hanging out to the sea.

“This feels pretty _raro_.”

“All stances take time. They’re not the same as how you’d just be in everyday life,” he conceded. “Now, hold your hands out. How would you try and block me?”

As he watched, evaluating her, she held up both her hands in tightly clenched fists before her chin. Well, at least she had the right instinct to protect her face.

Michael reached out and adjusted her hands, prying the fingers apart as she let him, and helping her to make them stand up flat with the heels of her palms perpendicular to the sand beneath them and her fingers just slightly curled.

“One day, maybe, we’ll get to weapons and what you do with your hands changes completely. For right now, it’s easier to keep it palm out for a palm strike, usually with the heel or meat of it. Think about if you punched a wall versus slapped it, what would hurt your hand less. You’re strong, we can tell that---”

“The refrigerator knows that,” she muttered, a blush coloring her already reddening cheeks and the criss-cross of scales was spreading fast.

“Yes, but for now, we’re not sure if you heal better or are more resilient too.” He shrugged. “You could be like me now and not exactly invulnerable to go with some of the other perks of _otherness_.”

“Ugh, I hate that applies to me at all.”

Michael laughed but there was no humor in it. “Definitely never signed up to lead His Legion or to be half the Demiurge. We don’t get to pick what we’re dealt, unfortunately.”

“Guess not,” she said, trying to adjust her stance, and she was stilted and awkward in it, but she’d learn.

Michael stood before her and assumed the same type of stance she had. He moved to the right to start circling her, being careful to step with deliberate coordination, more of a shuffle that ensured his right foot never crossed over his left. More like angling everything else than a natural step might be.

Ella tried to follow the movements, but she stumbled a bit, her legs crossing as she tried to mimic his shuffle.

Michael reached out with his good arm and touched her shoulder. “You can’t let them cross like that, chica. It’ll throw you off balance every time. If you have to think like there’s a rubber band or just general band tying your ankles together and you stretch but don’t cross them, fine. But it’s more of a deliberate diagonal than anything else.”

“I think I get it.”

“Do you want me to show you?”

“Sure, bring it,” she enthused.

Oh, those were famous last words, if ever Michael had heard them.

He settled back in front of her face and advanced on her again, forcing her to shuffle right as he angled his way towards her. He let her lull herself into a particular rhythm, and when she was getting sloppy, when her steps were crossing over each other regularly, Michael took advantage of her poor form to push her shoulder hard and send her spiraling to the sand.

Ella coughed and glared up at him with green eyes glittering. “You did that on purpossse!”

“Sure did,” he said, leaning a bit heavily on his left leg. “You crossed feet.”

She sat up on her hands and knees in the sand and bared her fangs, and Michael arched an eyebrow at Ella. She hissed a little too, and then gulped and shoved her hands over her mouth once she realized what she’d done.

He quirked his head at Lopez and waited for her to get to her feet. “You know, on the battlefield, someone isn’t going to help you up. You rebound or you die.”

Ella nodded and finally got to her feet. “So, okay, don’t cross my feet. I’ll definitely be working on that. Wiping out is no fun.”

Michael nodded. “Nope. Also, you’re fine…I…I suppose saying that when you get all agitated like that I think it’s cute won’t help.”

“Nope.”

“Well, still true. You’re an adorable chicken there, chica.”

She resumed her stance and stared daggers at him. “I am not. I’m learning to be dangerous!” The waves behind her started to crest, and Michael couldn’t fault her that. She was many things, and dangerous was definitely one of them, at least now.

He forced himself to assume the same stance she had but held his hands up, palms flat, and nodded at her. “Lopez, let’s see you make a strike. Just push your hand out, don’t flare your elbows, and remember that the power of the strike comes from pushing off from the back leg and powering through your core. Big thing, it’s gonna feel off kilter. Try not to lean too far forward.”

She nodded. “That’s a lot. Usually with Ricardo, uh, I learned by doing.”

“Does that mean you figured it out after he beat you up a few times?”

The red scales slid up her neck too, and Michael wasn’t sure when all of them would cover her, but Michael could see how fast the changes were coming now. He wasn’t sure if he should stop and ask her to rest so that he could brace her for the continuing changes or to keep going so they could at least have a hope of tempering her strength, which could become a real problem.

The old, battered general in him won out, and he decided to press forward.

“Well, I want to do it a different way, show me what you got, then I know how to fortify weak points from there. Or, well, in your case, you’re a blank slate, Lopez. There’s a ton you don’t know.”

“Thanks.”

He shrugged and forced both shoulders up. “It’s true.”

She narrowed her eyes at him again and swung with her right hand, a jab that was strong enough to rock him on his heels, and he had to adjust his center of gravity a bit to factor in how powerful he gauged Ella to be currently.

“That’s not bad, but you’re still hitting more the palm of the hand than trying to make the heel of it the main centerpiece of your strike. You really need to do that.”

She struck again with a cross, and with his own shifted position, Michael stayed grounded---no rocking at all. It was a strong hit, one that was taking advantage of the back leg really powering her through the motion.

But Ella was still leaning forward too much.

Michael had her practice again, going with the jab-cross combo for a few minutes, until he stepped back with one of her crosses, leaving a huge gap between them. Ella had been anticipating her hit to land, whiffed at the empty space, and then fell onto her elbows at his feet.

“What did I say about leaning into it too much? You can’t lean so much that you’re off-balance. Anyone else, they’ll just sidestep you, let you eat sand.”

Samael would have. He’d always fought by avoiding the onslaught of his opponents, letting them make their first and last mistakes. Michael agreed it was a smarter way to fight, one that saved energy and was less wasteful than Gabriel’s smash and grab approach.

“ _You_ keep making me eat sand, dude. That’s so not cool.” Her face was all brick red scales now, and her nose just a bit flatter than usual. The coloring was continuing down her neck, and Michael figured the change didn’t hurt her any more than calling forth a glamour impaired Sam or Maze. She got to her feet again. “Okay, so some moves and some steps, I got it. Do you want me to keep just with drills or do you want to actually spar?”

“Oh, I’d like that fine, Lopez. However, are you up to it? Do you think you can keep your center of balance and your footing?”

“I can figure all the steps out, Mikey.” She frowned and her fangs teased the edge of her lower lip as she concentrated. “I…can you do it?”

“I’ve beaten Samael up at least twice since I arrived in Los Angeles. So, chica, do you think someone who can at least get the Devil flat on his back can go a round with you? I do.”

They started sparring then, him striking out with a few quick jabs at her chin. Ella had enough instinct to stop him but on the third blow he changed things up and jabbed her right shoulder hard enough to land her on her butt.

“I’m not helpless, Lopez,” Michael countered.

She hissed again and got to her feet. “My bad. Angel of Fear, not helpless.”

“Nope,” he said, taking back a stance and letting her do the same. “I’m not going full speed on you, and what I can feel of you…your strength isn’t want Sam’s is, and I never would have expected that. Not close to Amenadiel’s either or mine. More like Rae Rae’s. Definitely more than mortal and on par with the younger Host. It’s going to take some time just around the house to learn to temper it. That’s true.”

Ella nodded and changed her posture just enough to crook one finger at him. “Cool so since I know kung fu---”

“If anything, this has some similarities to Krav Maga and---”

“Dude, you didn’t even bother to watch _The Matrix_? I have got to get a list together. We have so many things to go over.”

He rolled his eyes and struck at out with a cross that Ella barely dodged. “Training isn’t chatting. Do you get that? We’re serious now. You can inundate me with films later.”

“Fine, but I’m going to kick your ass.”

He snorted. “I didn’t command Father’s Legion for no reason, chica. Trust me. Gabe wanted the job.”

She circled him as he did, matching her steps, and then it was on. Michael kept himself to about a third of the speed he could summon, if he needed it. Ella was strong and eager, but she was new to the steps, and the postures and strikes didn’t come easily to her. However, the enthusiasm made up for her clear lack of experience. Jab, block, cross, block. Michael let his right arm drop eventually, tired as it was, but it was easy enough to anticipate where Ella would strike; she was telegraphing her blows so badly.

And in her excitement, she was getting sloppy.

On one strike, she literally leapt up to try and catch him on the chin, and Michael took advantage of her criss-crossed, sloppy feet and her jump. With an admittedly clunky sweep of his right leg, he had knocked her feet out from under her.

Ella landed on her back and coughed a bit before sitting up to curse him out in a litany of Spanish he had no hope of following.

“Told you, watch your feet, Lopez.”

She got up again, and the curses still followed. She brushed the sand off her shirt, off those weird frog creatures---they were frogs, right---and resumed her stance. “I got this.”

Michael shook his head. “Don’t fight angry.”

“You fought everything, right? Azrael told me the story of you and Fenris. You had to be mad at other gods and stuff trying to take over your turf!”

“I wasn’t, though. I was mad in the Rebellion because I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t want to hurt my brothers and sisters. That got me distracted,” Michael held up his right hand to reinforce his point. “You get sloppier when you bring emotions into it. You get hurt that way. Trust me. Keep focused.”

“Man, you’re kind of a killjoy. Did Rae Rae like training under you?”

“It wasn’t about what we liked. It was about what Father wanted. It always was and always will be. I’m trying to help you the best way I know how.”

“Like a general?”

“Yup, now let’s go, one more round. Like you mean it, Lopez!”

She and he circled each other again, and this time he struck first, a cross to her solar plexus that she hadn’t been expecting. Ella hissed a little but aimed a trusty jab at the right side of his chest. Michael stumbled back at the force of it and almost fell to his knees. That made the adrenaline or the Celestial equivalent surge through him. He and Ella kept circling but he, like Sam, was used to waiting for his opponents to make mistakes.

As a novice, she gave him an opening. Ella jabbed but didn’t bring her hand back to her chin and Michael slammed at least human-level hard into her open jaw. Her head snapped back, and she bared her fangs. Then, Ella reached back and slugged him hard on the right shoulder. Very hard, and maybe she was a little stronger than the Angel of Death, after all.

Michael stumbled to his knees and Ella was on him now, a solid weight forcing him to his back in the sand, her eyes blazing and teeth bared. He stilled under her onslaught, having been in enough fights to know when a quick action would make an enemy even more likely to strike. She was wiry and strong. Not hobbled like he was. However, Michael had other powers at his disposal, and he really needed her _not_ to bite him.

He didn’t know much about whatever type of _chicken_ Ella actually was, but it wouldn’t be a good idea to let her sink her fangs into him.

So, loathe as he was to do it, Michael forced his power forward, even as he worked with his left hand to push on Ella’s chest and keep her away from his neck, and probed at her fear. He steered away from her dread about what his dad thought of her or her fears for what she was. Those cut too close to the bone for her, and even in defense, he wouldn’t use those against her.

What could he say? She made him soft.

She almost got the better of him and snapped a bite inches from his nose. Michael stilled and concentrated harder. Past the shoreline the waves were high and violently choppy.

Michael pulled on the thread he needed, on the smell of lilies and the sickly cloying feeling of a hot house lamp.

“Lopez, you have to calm down!”

Ella blinked at him and finally stilled on top of him. Michael was, unfortunately, aware that she was settled over his lap, her hips so delightfully close to his dick. He forced himself to ignore it.

“I…oh, I didn’t mean to knock you over. _Rayos_ , are you okay?”

He chuckled at that and at the pinch in between his shoulders, the urge of his wings to spring forward. “I’m fine.” Michael sighed and reached down to stroke the vibrant shades of red hair back from her face. “That’s the most fun I’ve had in a fight in eons, trust me.”

“It was kind of fun and---”

She stilled then when she noticed her hands and arms. Where the t-shirt ended on her biceps, there was nothing but red, scaled skin, leading down to equally crimson hands and fingers that no longer had nails on them at all.

“Shit, what’s going on?”

He groaned a little as she scurried off him, upset about the loss of contact between them. But this wasn’t about being selfish. This was about trying to do what she wanted, trying to help her understand and control her changing body. That was all that mattered, and his own selfish instincts needed to take a hike. With awkward, stilted movements, Michael was able to work himself up and to his knees.

Reaching out, he set his hand on her shoulder. “Ella, you’re okay.”

She shook her head and pushed his left hand away. It was more like a slap, and she might leave a mark there for a bit. How weird. “I’m not! I’m ssso not!”

“You’re…this is probably something you can slip on and off. I’m not kidding. Both Maze and Samael can look differently too. You just have to figure out how to manipulate the glamour. It’s not that hard, as far as what I’ve seen with my brother. It’s not even so difficult for Amenadiel to call his wings forth or set them away. You just have different sides now.”

She looked down at her hands and then lifted up the hem of her shirt. Her stomach was covered in a mix of brick red and dark black scales, and her belly button was gone. Or he assumed so. Michael wasn’t great at knowing much about humans and their needs, but he was pretty sure they usually started with those, right?

“What is happening to me?”

He sighed and despite her struggling against him, pulled her to his left side. Michael leaned over and kissed the crown of her head. “Lopez, it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. It’s not _anything_ ,” Ella said. “You feel bad about your wings, right?”

“Of course.”

“I feel just as crappy about this. I… _what_ am I?”

He rocked her as she cried, even as the waves came close to inland, even as they frothed and churned and battled each other in time with her mood. “We’ll talk with Amenadiel at _Lux_ tomorrow. He’ll have the research narrowed down. Azrael and I both say demigoddess; that’s how much power you have, Lopez. But for me? You’re just my chicken.”

“Not funny,” she hiccupped, despite herself.

“But you’re still you too. I can see you either way---red and glittering eyes and this rainbow of hair, and you’re amazing. I see you in jeans and a t-shirt just bumming around your lab, and you’re amazing. I know that doesn’t fix anything, but I don’t care which way you are, Ella. I don’t.”

“I do. I hate this,” she blinked back at him, and there were tears in her eyes. He wasn’t even quite sure how eyes that were so snake like and foreign, how they could tear up, but they did. And it cut into him worse than Azrael’s blade ever would have. “I can’t do this, and I can’t ever tell my family, and they’re not even my family but they feel like it and even if I show people and I can’t and I just am so ugly and I---”

Michael didn’t know what he was thinking then; it was all running on instinct. But he just needed her to see what he did in her, to feel some of what he felt for her. To know that she was truly beautiful. He kissed her then, and it wasn’t on the crown of her head or her cheek. It was everything that he’d felt with her on the dance floor at _Lux_ before everything went to hell with snakes and ruined plumbing and so much fear.

She mewled against him and pressed her body to his. Her tongue, thin and reedy, struck out and tangled with his own. Her fangs clanked against his teeth, and with her weight in his lap, Michael was able to run his hand down her side, to tickle the scales across his arms and even under her tee. He traced his fingers even as far as her hips and felt something there in the skin, not scales, but scars, like a pattern in the ridges.

He’d process all that later.

Right now, all he wanted was her. The taste of her on his tongue, the scent of the ocean and its salt, which now felt so much like Ella since she was controlling the waves before them… Michael wanted _all of it_.

She broke away first, gasping for breath, and maybe whatever she was needed more air than angels. It was all an investigation for both of them, mysteries to solve.

“I…we can’t…”

He shook his head. “Pretty sure you’re not going to bring the ocean crashing down on everyone. You’ve gotten better at this. I just…” he sighed. “Ella, I care about you a lot, which for me is saying something since I thought that part of me…that caring at all had been broken since the Rebellion. But I do. I want you to understand what I see in you. Let me take you inside, and if you let me, I want to make you feel better.”

“Dude, you saying you think sex will fix this?”

“I’m saying I want think you’re a demigoddess---literally and figuratively---and let me worship you. I can do that. _Please_.” Michael breathed in roughly. This was more vulnerable in a way than even Father had rendered him. She knew he had about zero experience, and Ella had the power to reject him, to throw his weaknesses and virginity back in his face. To crush him in a way she couldn’t even with all her physical strength. “I just want you to see what I do, chica.”

She quirked her head at him, and Ella probably wasn’t controlling this either, but her tongue flashed out and tasted the air. Again, he shouldn’t find it adorable or think of it as a frankly sexy either.

But he did.

“I don’t know what you see or how you could see anything good,” she continued.

“Same way I hope you don’t just see a broken down, pale imitation of Samael when you look at me.”

“I don’t!”

He reached out and touched the tip of her nose. “Then, perhaps, you’re the only person in Creation--- _chicken_ or otherwise---who does.” Michael struggled to his feet but made it up even in the unsteady sand. “Come on, Lopez, let me show you how much I care.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is back after some hiatus. Hope to have the next installment up every Saturday until we get chapters 7-9 up and done. ;)


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